


The King's Heart

by lokilickedme



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Anal Fingering, Asgard, Attempted Murder, Battle, Beating, Brother Feels, Brothers, Bruising, Childbirth, Cliffhangers, Clone Sex, Concubine, Cruelty, Domestic Violence, Dominance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fighting, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Forced Submission, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, King Loki, Loki Angst, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Has Issues, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Virginity, Master/Slave, Mood Swings, Non-Consensual Spanking, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Orgasm Denial, Pain Sharing, Physical Abuse, Post-Avengers Asgard, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Tension, Shapeshifter Loki, Shapeshifting, Spanking, Stabbing, Strapping, Thor Angst, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Abuse, Voyeurism, War, Wedding Night, Whipping, Woman on Top, hinted/implied Thor/Loki past sexual relationship, is he dead?, physical violence, royal consort, sexual awakening, spousal abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-26 19:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 47,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5017990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokilickedme/pseuds/lokilickedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Avengers AU.  Loki has been given the throne of Asgard after Odin's death by Thor, who has chosen not to be king.  Loki, though full of hatred and rage from the deaths of his wife and sons, proves himself a worthy ruler and is soon informed that royal decree dictates he must take another wife and sire heirs to the kingdom.  Enraged that a replacement for his beloved Sigyn is forced on him, he treats his new wife with unfettered cruelty and withholds his affection - but despite his best efforts, even Loki's bitter stone heart may not be immune to the healing power of passion.</p>
<p>(Yes, I know...this sounds corny as hell.  But this story is dark, and violent, and cruel.  No fluffy Loki to be found, only a bitter bastard who hates everyone nearly as much as he hates himself.  Will love fix our boy?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. King

 

 

"Loki Laufeyson Odinson, Prince of Asgard and Jotunheim through line of succession from King Odin Borsson of Asgard and royal lineage through King Laufey of Jotunheim, you are hereby named Sovereign King of Asgard and Ruler of the Nine Realms."

Loki rose before the golden throne, ascending the final two steps to take his place as rightful heir over his kingdom.  There was no joy in his face, no pride at having risen from castoff runt to most powerful being in the realms.  This was no triumph, there was no glorious conquest.  The task of rulership had simply fallen to him.

As he took the spear that was the symbol of kingship from his brother's hand, he turned to survey the massive crowd that had assembled to witness his coronation.  His eyes were cold and dead.  If he had looked to his right he would have seen the empty place where his queen should have been standing, but he stared straight ahead.  He didn't need to look to know that his queen was not there.

There was no queen.

There was only a cold, empty place in his chest where a heart had once beat, replaced now with a chill of loneliness and seething, undying rage.

 

The royal advisors left the room one by one until only the King's Chancellor remained.  He looked at Thor with grim determination.

"Royal decree states Loki must take a wife."

A heavy sigh made its way through Thor's lips.  "He's not going to like this."

"No...but there is nothing to be done about it."

"He will refuse to court."

"Then we must prepare a wife for him and present her.  If he is as despondent as you say he is to the lure of a woman, then perhaps he will simply take what we offer and fulfill his duty.  He is still a man, after all...he still has - _needs,_   does he not?"

Thor felt a rising heat in his cheeks when he realized he was playing partner to arranging consortium for his brother.  He knew Loki had enjoyed a great romance with Sigyn, that they had shared a deep and abiding love despite Loki's sometimes philandering ways.  He had always been high spirited and his longsuffering bride had turned a forgiving eye to his indiscretions.  But there was no doubt Loki had loved her. Her death had nearly broken his spirit.

"He is as male as any of us.  And to my knowledge, he has not visited nor been visited by any females since his wife's passing."

"Any males?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

The Chancellor nodded.  "Then we find a queen for our King.  It shouldn't be too difficult - there are purebloods crawling all over this palace thanks to your father's proclivity for taking living spoils of war."

 

As expected, the King was not pleased with the news.

"Keep your damn whore, I desire no wife."

"Loki, it is royal decree set forth by our forebears, you cannot hold the kingship without a bride to give you heirs."

"I can fuck a chambermaid if you want heirs, they seem to be particularly ripe around here judging from the proliferation of brats constantly squealing in the courtyard."

Thor winced at his brother's crass choice of words.  He had grown increasingly unpleasant since his wife's death.  "You know she must be of royal blood, Loki.  Stop being difficult."

"I am in no mood to woo the blueblood daughters of our father's war buddies, not now nor will I be in the foreseeable future."

"There is no need, brother.  We have someone prepared for you, you need only give your approval."

Loki turned his back to Thor, his shoulders shaking in a sudden rage.  The hairs on the back of Thor's neck bristled;  he knew a storm was coming, and he knew it would be a brutal one.

_"How dare you attempt to replace her!"_

"No one is trying to replace Sigyn, Loki."  Once he'd spoken her name, Thor knew he'd made a mistake.  Loki's face twisted for just a moment, a rictus of pain and barely concealed torment before it fell to a stony, cold mask of impassivity.  He continued quickly, hoping to head off the outburst that he sensed was coming.  "But you have an obligation to provide heirs - "

 _"I did provide heirs!_   How soon you forget, dear brother, your own nephews, murdered right beneath your very nose.  Have you already erased Valli and Narvi from memory, the way you've done my poor wife?"

Thor let his gaze fall to the floor in respect for Loki's still raw grief.

"No one has forgotten them, Loki.  We carry them in our hearts, your sons and your wife.  But you are king now, and progeny must be procured."

"Such a polite way of saying I'm under obligation to impregnate some whore of your choosing."  His voice was bitter and biting.  "Well bring her to me, lets get this procurement started."

Thor sighed.  It was as he feared - his brother had no intention of taking another wife to heart.  Whoever he was presented with would bear the brunt of his rage and anger, powerless against his abuse, a slave in the guise of a spouse.  He could love no one.  The poor woman would be nothing more than a breeding pony.

"We have a woman of pure blood residing here in the palace, she was taken as spoils of war from Adelheim as a child.  She is of direct descent from King Santaro, who you will recall nearly defeated our father in the battle of Badin Crest."

Loki's face showed a mild curiosity, though it fell quickly to a sneer of derision.  "Warrior blood.  Tell me, is she hulking and brutish like her warmongering ancestor?  Does her face strike fear into potential suitors?"

"She has had no suitors, she has been employed as a handmaiden to one of mother's consultants since she was a child.  And she is, I'm confident you will find, quite agreeable to the eye."  Thor knew this was a risky line of persuasion to attempt, as Sigyn had been a great ethereal beauty.  Loki had written poetry about her.  There would be no impressing him with a sweet face and pleasing shape.

"I could care less what she looks like.  It won't be her face I'm paying attention to."  He stopped his restless pacing and turned to give Thor a particularly nasty look.  "No suitors?  Am I to take this as meaning the wench is untouched?"

"You may take that as my meaning."

"Good.  A virgin to plunder.  It's been far too long since I plowed into something with a little resistance." 

"Loki, when I handed you this throne - "

_"I earned this throne!"_

"You were  _given_  this throne!  If I had held any desire for it you would have had to fight me for it, and you would have lost, little brother."

"Keep humoring yourself,  _brother._ Had I chosen to take this kingdom from your wretched rule, there would have been no stopping me until you lay dead at my feet."

"Then it is fortunate for us both that I chose to decline the scepter."

A bolt of green light burst from Loki's hand and shot past Thor's face, crashing into the wall behind him and exploding into a million emerald shards of fire.  His fingertips were still sparking and it was obvious he was nowhere near finished.  "You would have driven this realm into war after war, decimating our people and weakening us till we were ripe for plunder by any race that deemed us worth the trouble!"  Another bolt shot from his palm, narrowly missing Thor's broad chest as he dove to the floor to avoid it.  He knew Loki wasn't playing - he had been struck by his brother's magic before, in much smaller doses than were being hurled at him now.  It was nothing to be taken lightly.

"And what do we have under _your_ rule, brother?  A tenuous peace at best, and no prospect of heirs to rule after you are either deposed or murdered for being an insufferable ass!"  He ducked and rolled as another burst of energy careened off a column and grazed his shoulder armor.  Loki's face was dark with a malicious rage and his hands were glowing green now all the way to his elbows.  The next blast would kill if it hit its mark.  Fortunately for Thor, he knew Loki had bad aim when his temper was raging.  If he kept him angry, he had a better chance of surviving this encounter.  "Or perhaps we should find you a husband, if that is what you prefer.  You're Jotun, they have both sets of - _parts_ \- do they not?  You could bear your own heirs, though I'm not sure how well it would sit with your subjects to have a blue king on the throne."  He waited a moment, ensuring that his words were having the desired effect.  "Or would _queen_ be the proper way to address you?"

A great sound of rage tore from Loki's throat and the green light sparking from his hands exploded in an unfocused shower of sparks that shot across the room and set the curtains on fire.  The blast drained Loki's power for a moment and Thor hurled himself toward his brother, taking him down in a tackle that sent them both sprawling across the floor, legs tangling and fists punching.  It was a schoolyard brawl at best, with both men reduced to the undisciplined boys they had once been, tearing and hitting and kicking at one another, curses spewing from mouths in between vicious bites that tore skin and left bruises. Thor gained the upper hand through merit of larger size alone, his muscular bulk overpowering Loki's slighter build, but not easily.

"Stop fighting me, brother!" Thor grunted, amazed as always at Loki's surprising strength.  Even as a child he had been stronger than he looked, and though Thor usually bested him through brute strength, it took some doing.  "Don't make me hurt you."

"Ooh, but you know how much I love pain, don't you Thor?  How it arouses me, how easily I get off on it - "

To silence him, Thor grabbed Loki's head and slammed it into the marble floor.  "Quiet your blasphemous tongue."

Loki did as he was told, only because he was momentarily stunned by the blow to the head, to the point of being unable to speak.  But he still had some strength left in him;  though it was flagging, he was able to push Thor off of him and roll over onto his side, his arms wrapped around himself in a gesture that looked like self protection but that Thor knew from experience meant he was regrouping his powers.  He would unleash them in a controlled fury now that his initial burst of rage had been expelled.  Thor's only hope at avoiding it was to either subdue him completely or get far enough away to be out of Loki's reach once his full capacity returned.

"I know this isn't what you wanted, brother," he said quietly, his breath ragged and heavy from exertion.  "But we do what we must."

Loki's eyes were abnormally bright, a green inferno of blazing anger and hate as he fixed his glare on his older brother's face.

"No," he said in a low, growling snarl that sent a chill up Thor's spine. _"I do what I want."_

 

The advisors met, and the decision was made.

"Loki must marry.  The woman has been found to be of noble blood, so she will suffice.  He will sire heirs from her and the lineage will be preserved."  The Chancellor closed the scroll and sealed it, handing it to Thor, who stared at it for a long moment before accepting it.

"And what of love?" he said, almost to himself.

"What of it?  Do you think for a moment that cold hearted ogre could deign to feel love for anyone, much less a girl he deems to be so far beneath himself?"

Thor's anger rankled momentarily at the harsh words the man used to describe his brother.  They were true, but it wasn't his place to say so.  "Loki deems everyone to be beneath himself."

"And there you have it.  There will be no royal romance.  Loki will marry for pure blood and progeny.  The woman could do worse."

Tucking the scroll into his cloak, Thor turned to leave, muttering under his breath, _"Not by much."_

 

 

 

To be continued...


	2. Joined

 

 

"I've come to bring you to the Great Hall, my King."

Thor bowed, showing respectful reverence for his brother's position, though it was hard to feel it in his heart.  Loki had done his best to be undeserving of any but the required amount of respect that was due the crown.  But he was proving to be a good King, competent and capable, and for that Thor could bend his knee without tasting bile in his mouth.

Loki, however, was determined to make him choke on that bile.  

"Do not delude yourself into thinking for one moment that this wedding night will end with me all doe-eyed in love with my sweet little bride."  The anger in Loki's voice was evident, the spiteful edge lending a biting snarl to his words. "And I assure you that any screaming you hear from the bridal chamber will _not_ be passion."

Thor felt sick to his stomach, knowing that he was a party to this travesty.  He had had a hand in the choosing of the sacrificial virgin.  All he could do now was try to appease his brother's temper, but the best he could manage was a barely whispered supplication.

_"Loki, stop."_

"Stop?  Really, Thor?  Big strong fellow like you, reduced to guilty remorse at the thought of handing the lamb over to the wolf?  Tsk tsk...you really should have thought this through a little better.  You knew what you were setting the poor girl up for."  He leaned over, raking his eyes over Thor's face.  "You're looking a little green about the gills, brother."

Thor shot Loki a threatening look, but the King was not impressed.  "Just remember, _brother_ \- this was your doing.  I'm simply following official decree, procuring offspring for the royal lineage.  And you know how that's done, don't you Thor?  You know what I have to do to her to get those coveted offspring from her, don't you?"  His face was uncomfortably close to Thor's, his voice mocking, his expression a vicious sneer.  "I'm going to fuck her, Thor.  I'm going to break her wide open and rip her to shreds, all in the name of producing an heir to the precious throne of Asgard."

Thor's hand shot out and gripped Loki's throat, quicker than either of them realized anything was even happening.  Horrified when he saw his huge fingers tightening viciously around the King's windpipe, he let go and quickly drew his hand away - but a wicked grin spread slowly across Loki's face as he rubbed at his neck, a small laugh erupting from his lips.  "You _really_ should have thought about whether or not you could live with yourself after this, Thor.  Because I'm willing to bet that's a no."

A servant arrived with the King's cloak, interrupting with a quiet cough to draw the mens' attention.  Loki was still grinning, his leering face close to Thor's, their eyes locked and both silently daring the other to be the first to break contact.  

"She is done for, Thor," Loki finally whispered, moving away to take his cloak from the boy.  "The next time you see her, you really should offer your apologies, although I doubt she'll be in any condition to accept them."

 

Loki sat quietly, deep in his own thoughts.  Despite his fearsome words to Thor concerning the girl, he had no real intention of truly hurting her. She played no part in this, other than innocent victim of court politics. She was simply doing as she was told.  He couldn't fault her for that, nor blame her for what had been arranged between them.  But he was no more in control of his dark moods than he was of the changing of the seasons;  from one moment to the next even _he_ feared what he would suddenly, inexplicably be compelled to do by the darkness that had settled into his soul after Sigyn's death.  But he couldn't draw into himself to protect others from his sickness...he was the King, he was expected to be present for everything from palace celebrations to meetings with heads of state.  And so the sickness festered, untended, until he had no control over it.  

And now they had thrust a wife upon him, an unwanted innocent who would occupy his bed, whether he wanted her there or not.  She would be privy to his darkness, subjected to his unwarranted wrath.  And he would hurt her, break her heart and her spirit, without meaning to.  Hopefully she would bear him a child quickly and he could send her away to another part of the palace, to her own apartments where she would be safe from him and his unpredictable rages.

But until then, she would be sleeping with him, sharing his bed every night until her belly took seed and the future king of Asgard grew within her. If the Norns were merciful, her first pregnancy would bear a son and there would be no need for another.  But if she bore him daughters, she would have to remain in his bed until a male heir was produced.  Loki closed his eyes tight, grimacing at the prospect.  

She would never survive him.  

 

A sadness simmered behind the boiling rage in Loki's heart as the ceremony ended and he found himself bound to a woman his eyes had never fallen upon till this moment.  He had declined to meet his promised bride prior to the wedding, hiding himself away instead in his gardens, tending to his herbs and perfecting his potions while the marriage preparations were made far from his view.  He cared nothing for the actual event, content to just show up when it was time, say his vows and stay just long enough at the reception to keep up royal appearances.  But when it was over and he was left sitting on his father's throne with his new wife seated beside him, smiling benevolently to the crowds of happy nobles and subjects, all deliriously pleased that their lonely King had finally taken a bride...all he could feel was an empty, cold ache where he remembered his heart once residing.

 

He groaned heavily, spilling into her with a hard thrust that made her cry out.  When his trembling stilled he lay atop her, still inside her, preventing his seed from leaking out of her body.  "Lie still," he whispered harshly against her ear.  He knew she stood a better chance of conceiving if she relaxed and didn't move for a while, so he held her still with his own body, willing her to be receptive.  She wriggled uncomfortably under his weight but settled once he bit her earlobe, letting her know he expected to be obeyed.

When he finally pulled out of her she whimpered quietly, though he couldn't decide if it was discomfort or disappointment;  he knew she hadn't come, but he couldn't be bothered with that.  She could pleasure herself later while he slept, if she so desired.  He didn't care one way or the other so long as she left him alone.  He drew away from her and moved to the edge of the bed, retrieving a cloth from the bedside table to clean himself with, ignoring the shifting of the bed as she curled up into herself behind him, her face turned away and the sheets pulled up past her chin.   _Silly child,_ he thought to himself as he tossed the sticky cloth back onto the table and settled in on his side of the bed, stretching out and tugging the blankets up to his chest.  It was force of habit, not a true necessity, as he never got cold and the chilly night air felt almost warm to his Jotun blood.  But it felt better somehow, separating himself from her this way, with the sheets covering her and the blankets over him.  He tried not to think of how her body had felt beneath him, of how she had accepted him willingly and without fear.  There was a strength in her that would serve her well, perhaps providing something of a protection to her until she'd served her purpose and could be released from her marital duties.

He slept fitfully, restless, waking often throughout the night.  At some point the woman moved over close to him and pressed up against his back, her soft breathing lulling him into the only truly restful bit of sleep that he managed to wrestle from his frustrated insomnia.  He thought to push her away, but she was warm and soft and there was something gently comforting in the way she molded her body to his;  so he let her stay, vowing to himself that this would be the only time he allowed her this degree of familiarity with him.  It was, after all, her wedding night.

 

Loki rose early, extricating himself from his bride's embrace;  sitting up at the edge of the bed, yawning and stretching to pull the stiffness from his back and shoulders, he glanced back into the rumpled blankets and sheets at the woman he'd spent the night with.  She was still sleeping, her face a gentle frown of deep slumber, her hair scattered across the bed next to her head.  She had slipped off the pillows during the night and scooted down, curled up into herself like a child, and for the first time he truly looked at her.

She was lovely, he had to admit.  A pretty face, young and sweet.  Plump lips that he had, at some point during their previous nights' copulation, kissed - or perhaps he had bitten them, he was a bit too inebriated to be certain which it actually was, but he remembered her tasting sweet upon his tongue.  He reached back and tugged the sheet that was barely covering her.

Exposed to his eyes in the bright morning sunlight this way, nothing was hidden.  He had stripped her of her nightgown and quickly mounted her the night before, taking no time to appreciate her feminine form, so now he allowed himself to appraise her without hesitation.  He raked his gaze over soft largish breasts that he had squeezed with his hands and crushed against his chest, with rosy nipples that he remembered suckling.  She had moaned when he took them into his mouth, even though there was no tenderness in his touch nor in his kiss.  She had borne his roughness without complaint, taken his abrupt claiming of her body with barely a whimpered protest.  Letting his eyes roam further over a curved hip that rounded to a smooth thigh, a well shaped calf that trailed elegantly to a slender ankle, he noted that her belly was soft and slightly rounded.  For some reason this pleased him - so many women he had slept with were too slim, too bony, perhaps alluring to look at but once hips began thrusting and bodies began slamming into one another, hipbones became an unpleasantly uncomfortable detraction from the act.  Her soft little belly had cushioned him as he pushed against her.  She was a good fit for him.

This realization displeased him greatly and he turned away in sudden anger, his irritation rising at having anyone in his bed except the one woman he _wanted_ there.  This most decidedly was not her.  But she belonged to him now, his wife, consort, _queen_ \- when the time came, he would name her as such, and his soul iced over at the thought of it.  There should be no queen but his Sigyn.  Not _this_...this stolen treasure, spoils of a war his father had goaded into happening.  This stranger whom he cared nothing about.  

She began to stir behind him;  he rose quickly from the bed, pulling his clothes on quietly and leaving the bedchamber before she opened her eyes.  He would spare her the humiliation and confusion of his unwarranted anger this morning.  This once.

 

When the chambermaid came to change the bedding, Thor stood outside in the hallway awaiting her departure with the linens, taking them from her while she looked at him, confused.  She bowed her obeisance to the prince when he waved her away, handing over the basket and quickly taking her leave.  Stepping into an alcove beyond the King's bedchamber, he dumped the basket and pulled out the sheets, running them through his hands, looking for signs that Loki had kept his promise to brutalize the poor girl...he finally found blood, though not much;  not near enough to back his brother's claims that he would rip her open without mercy.  There was only enough to verify that he had done his husbandly duty and taken her virginity.  Thor had expected much more than just the few drops of red on the emerald silk.  The relief he felt was almost overwhelming as he wadded the sheets into a bundle and stuffed them back into the basket, whistling to catch the attention of a passing maid.  He handed her the basket and nodded to dismiss her, realizing once she'd walked away that his hands were trembling, though he wasn't sure if it was with relief or the nagging, worrying guilt of having subjected an innocent woman to his brother's famed cruelty.  The lack of spilled blood was reassuring, but he knew in his heart that Loki's mood, if it was under control for now, would soon rage out of control again.

And there would be no one to protect her from it.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 

 


	3. Need

 

 

The King did not breakfast with his wife, electing instead to lose himself in the woods beyond the palace courtyards, where he urged his horse further and faster than was strictly safe.  The hills to the west of Asgard could be a dangerous place, both in terms of terrain and predators, and bandits from the surrounding villages were known to lay in ambush waiting for unsuspecting travelers.  Loki hoped he would cross paths with at least one of the known dangers on this excursion;  he didn't care which it was, be it a wolf hungry for flesh or a vagabond hungry for gold.  He itched to lay his blade into something.

But nothing deigned to threaten him this chilly morning, and his mood plummeted into darkness at the fates' refusal to send him something to play with.  Halting his steed he slipped to the ground, his booted feet transforming into paws before they touched the leaf-strewn soil.

In his wolf form, he ran until he could no longer see Asgard.

 

"What is your name?"

The question was spoken as an afterthought, in an almost insulting tone that told the woman and everyone within earshot that the King, her husband, barely felt it a worthwhile use of his memory to have retained the name of his own wife.  Thor's eyes darted to her face, expecting to see tears of humiliation welling in the poor girl's eyes, but she held a countenance of blank aloofness that lent her face an almost uncaring strength.  He chuckled a little, quietly, despite the stab of pity he felt in his heart for her.  She was obviously holding onto no romantic delusions about the King.

"Lyra, Sire."

Loki nodded, barely glancing at her.  "Lyra, of course.  Forgive me."

There was a bite of sarcasm in his apology, but if the woman caught it, she didn't let on.  She simply continued with her meal, eating quietly, seated next to him with her back straight and her head high.  There was no arrogance or conceit in her demeanor, simply the posture and countenance of a woman who knew what was expected of her.  But she looked so small beside Loki, so tiny and defenseless, and Thor's natural inclination toward protecting those less powerful strained mightily at his self control.  He wasn't sure what he wanted to do, but there was an aching desire to shield her from his brother somehow.  He stared at his plate, his appetite suddenly gone.

Did he desire her?  Or was it simply empathy and pity pulling at him, the need to protect something weak?  Her eyes came up and met with his briefly, a small smile tugging the corners of her mouth up as she politely turned her face back to her own plate.  A rush of heat shimmered through his body and he smiled in return, though she had already looked away.

"My bride is a pretty thing, is she not, brother?"

Shocked panic sent a startled nerve response to his brain, but Thor resisted and forced himself to react calmly;  allowing himself to show nervousness at being caught would make him look guilty, as if his glance and his smile were something improper, and giving Loki any reason to look more unkindly upon his wife would be courting disaster.

"Indeed."  He raised his glass and tipped his head respectfully toward Lyra.  "Possessed of a beauty befitting a queen of Asgard."

A chilling coldness settled immediately over Loki's eyes, his face quickly following suit with an expression of barely contained black rage.  But as quickly as it had flared up, his temper settled again, and he smiled, though it was far from sincere.

Lyra raised her eyes just long enough to look from Thor to Loki and then back to her own glass, noting the barely contained animosity that seemed to be simmering between them.  She knew nothing of their past together nor their relationship, but she was intelligent enough by far to realize that she was a source of contention between the brothers.  And she sensed this cagey confrontation between them did not bode well for her.

 

As soon as they entered the corridor Loki grabbed Thor and slammed him into the wall;  though he could have stopped him, Thor allowed his brother this show of dominance and didn't resist.

"Sigyn should have been queen and you know it!"

"I had nothing to do with her death, Loki - and _you_ know _that."_  He pushed his brother's hands off his shoulders and shoved him, but only succeeded in removing Loki from his personal space by a few inches. Though the smaller of the two, Loki had always been stout in strength and able to hold his own, a trait that never failed to impress Thor when they tangled.  "And yes, she should have been queen.  I know in your heart she will always hold that place.  But Loki..."  He sighed, letting his face soften as he stared pleadingly into his brother's eyes, grieved at the pain he saw there.  "...is there truly no room in your heart for Lyra?"

At the sound of her name, Loki hissed and whirled away from Thor, stalking angrily to a column across the corridor where he looked for a moment as if he might bash his own head into it.  There was a heavy long silence that was filled only with the breathing of the two brothers, and then a burst of unfocused energy exploded from Loki's hands, aimed to the floor but rebounding and ricocheting off several columns before dissipating harmlessly into a wall at the far end of the corridor.  When the sparks from the outburst stopped discharging from his fingertips, a low, deep, gutteral groan erupted from his throat, rising till it was a cry of anger and despair unlike anything that had ever met Thor's ears.  He had heard dying men scream, had listened to cries of rage from enemies as they were cut down, but never had he heard anything like this.  It set his nerves and his teeth on edge and he found himself stepping back, seeking the solace of the solid wall behind him, as if pressing himself to it would make him invisible to the raging agony that was assaulting his ears.

And then, as quickly as it began, it ended.

Neither brother spoke;  there was nothing to be said.  Thor waited to see what Loki's disposition would be once he'd calmed, but a servant intruded on the uneasy silence between them with notice that the dignitaries from the southern kingdoms would be arriving shortly.

_At least he'll be too busy to harm her for my stupidity,_ Thor thought with relief.  He nodded to the servant and dismissed him, turning back to Loki, who stood leaning back against the column with a look of tired annoyance on his face.

"Duty calls," he said with a sarcastic sneer.

 

Lyra dressed for sleep and climbed up onto the big canopied bed, having to crawl across its wide expanse to reach the middle where she pulled a long pillow against her front and curled around it.  Her husband had not shared their bed for two nights, but she couldn't bring herself to be heartbroken over his lack of interest in her.  He hadn't been cruel on their wedding night, just distant and abrupt.  His roughness had not surprised her, as her elder maid had warned her ahead of time to expect the King's heartlessness.   _Try to relax and remember to breathe slow and deep if it hurts.  It will be over quickly.  Sleep as much as you can once he is finished with you, it will help you to conceive._

She was breeding stock in the guise of a queen, she knew.  There were no preconceived notions in her head about her position in the palace.  Her position was under the King, quite literally.  But after taking her on their wedding night, he had chosen to sleep somewhere else for the following two nights, and this she found confusing.  How was she to conceive his heir if he wasn't in their bed?

She had fallen asleep by the time he entered the bedchamber, undressing in the darkness and climbing into the bed.  When he pulled the pillow away and pushed her onto her back, she opened her eyes, smelling the sweet liquor on his breath before she had time to focus on his face.  His eyes were closed and his breathing was heavy as his hands tugged at her nightgown, pulling it up to her waist, pushing her legs open with his knee and settling between them.  There was no protest from her when he pushed himself into her, only a quiet groan of discomfort as she bit back the louder cry that had threatened to break from her throat.  His intrusion was rough and she wasn't ready for him, but he finished quickly after a few hard thrusts and rolled over off of her, his soon steady breathing telling her that he had already fallen asleep.

She tried not to look at him;  moonlight was filtering in through the long sheer curtains over the balcony entrance, bathing his skin in a cold silvery blue glow that made him look like a marble statue, cool and smooth and unmoving.  But she hurt desperately between her legs and was afraid to try to leave the bed lest she wake him, so to distract herself from the pain, she allowed her eyes to stray over his naked body. The King was handsome, there was no faulting him on his appearance.  A face both beautiful and cruel, a body both strong and lithe, he seemed blessed with attributes that no one could find unattractive, no matter their preference.

But his soul was damaged.  Twisted and ugly and full of rage and hatred, blind to the care and compassion of those around him.  It was obvious his family loved him, his brother and mother and the friends who still associated with him, but he treated them with disdain and outright contempt at times.  But there were also times when he seemed to be struggling to show kindness, as if it were draining out of him slowly, water leaking from an unseen hole in the bottom of a bucket;  the bucket still holding onto its contents, but losing them at an alarming rate.  And the bucket, powerless to stop the leak, sadly feeling the emptiness that follows.

"Do you approve of what you see, my queen?"

The words spoken in the darkness startled her;  she hadn't seen him open his eyes, nor turn his head toward her to catch her appraising him.  There was a biting twist on the word _queen,_ letting her know he spoke it in mockery of her.  She drew back in fear, pulling a pillow in front of her body, a useless shield that would only work as a solace to her mind and absolutely nothing to her body if he chose to remove it.

"I'm sorry, please forgive me Sire - I didn't mean to wake you."

Loki sat up, propping himself on one elbow to look at her.  His eyes fell to the pillow clutched to her chest and he laughed, a quiet laugh that mocked her every bit as much as his words had.  There was a long pause before he finally spoke again.

"Come to me."

Lyra obeyed, scooting across the bed to lie next to him, ignoring the ache between her legs that intensified when she moved.  Her back stiffened when he grabbed her, his strong arms encircling her to tug her up close against him as his mouth came down on hers in a hard kiss that smelled harshly of Asgardian whiskey.  He felt her tense and it angered him.  Gripping her face, his cold eyes bored into hers while one finger pushed mercilessly into her mouth, forcing it open.

"Always part your lips for me when I kiss you."

Unable to speak, she nodded her head as much as his tight grip would allow.  When he pressed his lips to her again he pushed his tongue into her mouth and let it slide across hers - a claiming act, but not a brutal one, and she found herself relaxing into the kiss.  She didn't resist when he pushed her onto her back, nor when he climbed on top of her, and her legs parted willingly to his forceful hands.  There was a sharp gasp of surprise torn from her throat as a finger pushed into her and Loki began to stroke her, cupping her acutely sensitive underside with his palm as his other hand pulled the top of her nightgown down to expose her breasts to him. _"Be still,"_   he growled, mistaking her squirming for resistance, and she obeyed immediately.  And then his mouth was on her breast, sucking her nipple between his lips while his tongue played over it, coaxing a soft moan from her that surprised her and aroused him.

The finger inside her body slipped out and was replaced with something much larger, harder, more insistent and heated, stretching her wide and feeling as if it would never be sheathed completely inside her until, finally, it was.  Lyra exhaled slowly and was surprised to find it hadn't hurt quite so unbearably this time...the foreplay hadn't been much, but it had been enough to help her lubricate, and her body accepted him much more willingly, easily, almost _eagerly_ this time.  Loki felt it as well and whispered something against her ear, but it was lost in the sudden heaviness of their breathing and Lyra concentrated instead on trying to remain relaxed beneath his body.  The sensations of his cool skin against her, his weight pushing down on her, his mouth trailing hotly down her throat to suck at her breast, his tongue teasing her nipple, his hands sliding under her to grip her bottom and pull her up to him...it was all overwhelming in its agonizing intensity, but none of it matched the feeling of his cock thrusting into her, sliding easily in her sudden wetness.  The wetness itself was a new sensation to her and she flinched when she felt it trickling out of her, trailing slowly between the cheeks of her bottom;  she thought for a moment that Loki had already ejaculated inside her, but the quickening thrust of his hips told her he wasn't finished yet.

And then something else new...a rising tightness in the pit of her belly, an almost electric jolt of slowly building heat and cold, coming from someplace lower...her hands came up to grip Loki's shoulders, her hips beginning to move opposite his, deepening his penetration as she ground her hips upward to meet him in a desperate attempt to help that rising heat burn hotter.  But Loki quickened his thrusts and emptied into her with a deep groan, his sweaty body trembling momentarily as he collapsed onto her, his breath heavy and heated against the side of her neck.  She felt his warm seed spill inside her and a small, quiet whimper escaped her throat when he pulled out and flopped over onto his back beside her, sighing heavily as his body calmed.  It was a sound of contentment, something she never associated with Loki.  It sounded somehow alien coming from him.

As she pushed her nightgown back down over her legs, Lyra realized she was trembling - not with pain or fear, but with something else, an almost aching need that she had no idea how to satisfy.  She didn't know if it even _could_   be satisfied, as deep and overwhelming as it was, shivering there heavy in her belly.  She dared a quick glance at Loki, but he had covered his eyes with his forearm and his breathing had already slowed to a steady rhythm that she recognized as sleep.

Turning away from him, she drew her legs up to her stomach and tried to find sleep herself, but the unsettlingly needy feeling kept her from finding slumber until morning's first light broke through the balcony drapes and found its way across the bed, warming her face.  She lay still as Loki woke and quietly left the bed, then finally drifted into an uneasy half sleep until her maid came to wake her for breakfast.

 

 

_To be continued..._


	4. Ache

 

 

 

Affairs of government kept Loki behind closed doors for most of the day, only adjourning long enough for the king to eat and then return to his meetings.  Lyra spent her day reading books that she'd borrowed from his personal library;  she wasn't sure she had permission to do so, but she had managed thus far to keep her reading habit hidden from him, returning his books to their places in the shelves before he noticed their absence.  It was nearly nightfall and she had dined alone, but the muffled sound of voices in the corridor alerted her to the fact that the day's official duties had finally drawn to a close.  She sighed with resignation, knowing her own official duties were about to begin.  Perhaps he would be so tired from arguing with dignitaries all day that he could be lulled to sleep with a backrub...?  He had never allowed her to put her hands on him other than while they were in bed together, and the thought of touching him in any other capacity filled her with apprehension.  There were masseuses employed in the palace, if he wanted a backrub there were professionals to provide the service - he would certainly see through her ruse with ease.

No, the quicker she fell pregnant, the better off she would be.  There would be no shirking her duty.  She would lie still underneath him while he worked off his tension, and then they would both sleep, and if she was lucky he would have another full day tomorrow and be too rushed in the morning to take her again.

But she still had that aching need, that little spark of an ember that felt like it could burst into a roaring flame, if she could only figure out how to fan it.

 

When Loki entered the bedchamber, Lyra was already in the bed, asleep.  A small smile played at his lips as he let his eyes roam over the shape of her under the silken sheets, her curves and softness stirring a need in him.  He undressed and slipped under the covers, sliding over to her.  He was irritated to find her clothed in her nightgown, but it was an inconvenience dealt with easily enough.

An uncustomary gentleness found its way into his caresses as he touched her, letting his hands slide over her body as she slept.  Her small moan and the way she arched her back as he squeezed her breasts woke a primal desire in him and he tipped her head back so he could kiss her.  Even in her sleep, she remembered his admonition to part her lips for him, and he allowed himself to linger in the kiss for a long moment before she sighed into his mouth, her eyes slowly fluttering open.

"Sire...forgive me, I fell asleep waiting for you."

"Waiting, were you?"

"Yes, my king."

The sleepy way she murmured _king_ stirred something in Loki, setting his loins astir with a desire to find pleasure quickly in the warmth of her body.

"You sleep in far too much clothing," he whispered harshly, ripping at the neck of her gown, a satisfied smirk coming to his face as it tore easily down the center, exposing her soft skin to him.  "There, now you have no excuse to wear this hideous thing again."

Lyra gasped, now fully awake, finding herself in Loki's arms with her gown torn open and his hungry eyes trailing over her in the places no longer hidden safely from his view.  "I'm...I'm sorry Sire...I thought it inappropriate..."

He stared at her, taking obvious delight in her nervous stammering.

"Yes?  Spit it out, little one, I have things to do."

"I thought it inappropriate to presume upon our - _familiarity_ \- with the impertinence of being unclothed."

"What in the hel does that mean?"

Flustered, Lyra closed her eyes tight and tried desperately to put her words together in a manner that was polite but forthright;  it was becoming obvious that Loki's patience with her was running frightfully short. "Forgive me Sire, my appointment to this position was sudden and I wasn't given the proper instruction as to how to behave in your presence.  I thought it was not within my rights to choose whether you see me naked or not."

Loki laughed, a harsh, dark sound that was louder than Lyra expected.  She winced but fought the natural reflex to draw away from him.

"Such a _proper_ little thing you are.  So I am to be burdened with the task of deciding whether you remain clothed or not while I fuck you?  And if I choose not, then it is my duty to divest you of your various accoutrements?"  He laughed again, not quite so harshly this time, but Lyra was already drawing silently into herself in fear of his temper erupting.  His crude choice of words shocked her and a sense of impending doom fell over her, sheathing her in a deep dread of what was to come.

"I'm sorry, Sire."

His hand came up and she flinched, but his touch was almost gentle when it met her cheek.  "My little queen...whatever shall I do with you."  There was a hint of something uncharacteristically soft - sympathy, perhaps? - in his voice, though Lyra wasn't certain she hadn't imagined it in her desperate desire to remain untouched by his wrath for this one night.  When she brought her eyes up to his she saw him staring at her, the burning flame of his deep green irises not quite so heated as she was used to seeing.  Perhaps she hadn't actually drawn as much of his ire as she'd feared?  She didn't look away but held his gaze, steeling her resolve to be brave no matter what.  Men like Loki respected bravery, did they not?  Or did they see it as something to be stripped away, like the thin fabric of a nightgown that blocked their way to something they wanted?

Her musings were interrupted by Loki's hands gliding over her body, not roughly, but with no real gentleness to them either.  He didn't remove what was left of her nightgown but simply touched her through it, letting it remain between his hands and her skin, the slightest bit of protection if only to her mind.  Was he affording her a kindness...?  Or could he simply not be bothered with the waste of the few moments it would take to remove it from her?  The answer wasn't obvious and Lyra found herself unable to analyze it further, as his touch grew more urgent and impatient upon her.  He tugged her toward him, pushing her onto her back and moving himself over her, the weight of his body momentarily crushing the breath from her lungs as his hands positioned her the way he wanted her.

He hovered for a moment above her, his hips held off her by his knees, his head dropped next to hers as his silky voice assaulted her ears.  "Spread your wings, little bird," he whispered against her ear, "or the hungry wolf will pluck your feathers before he devours you."  His hand behind her head gripped tightly into her hair, pulling harshly, making her gasp in discomfort as she quickly obeyed, opening her legs to him. There was a satisfied chuckle from his throat, a deep and sinister sound, as he reached down between their bodies and pushed himself into her soft folds.

Despite the sudden stretching pain of his intrusion into her most private parts, Lyra felt a momentary shock of pleasure as Loki's hand brushed against her while positioning himself.  It was brief, just the back of his knuckles bumping her, above where he'd entered her - but it was enough to send a chill through her entire body.  She felt herself arching up against him, pushing her hips up to meet him as he thrust mercilessly into her, the discomfort somehow lessened by the shimmering heat he'd accidentally awakened.  She didn't know what it was exactly that she wanted, she only knew she wanted _more_ of it.

Her voice took her by surprise when she heard it, a keening, desperate half-cry of need as she writhed under the king, her knees coming up to grip his hips as her arms went round his neck, her hands tangling in his long black hair.  She wasn't sure what she said, whether it was his name or just a crazed incomprehensible sound of nondescript want, but it seemed to spur Loki's unfocused passion and he drove into her with a blind fury that both hurt and excited her.  The spark in her belly that had been tormenting her was aching now, stirring to a sleepy wakefulness as Loki's body rubbed against hers, but all too soon he shifted his position and removed the contact between them.  A deep groan of disappointment tore from her throat as he sat up between her thighs, pulling her to him by the hips until he was sheathed completely inside her again, pounding into her so hard that the slowly rising pleasure she'd felt was quickly extinguished.  There was nothing left now but to wait until he was finished, and hope that he fell asleep quickly after.

 

Lyra lay on her side under the covers, facing Loki's back where he sat at the edge of the bed, his head dropped back and his eyes closed.  Their frantic coupling had ended just moments ago and he had withdrawn from her quickly, turning his back without taking another look at her.  It stung, this rude treatment, especially after she had done her best to satisfy him...but she was quickly learning that satisfaction was not in the king's nature, and there was precious little she could do to awaken it.

Her own body, however, longed for it...though she knew not what form it was meant to come in. 

"Sire," she whimpered softly, unable to stop herself from speaking despite his obvious disinterest in interacting with her any further.  "Can I...can you...?"

He looked back at her, over his shoulder.

"Yes?"

She fell silent, biting her lip, unsure what she was trying to say.  What she felt had no words that she knew of and her confusion over how to convey her intense longing for something more was frustrating her. Loki waited patiently, his eyes burning into her till finally he turned halfway toward her, tilting his head in curiosity.

"What do you need?"

"I need...I...I don't know."  Her face was agonized and her cheeks were burning with humiliation, both at her inability to speak her needs and the creeping realization that this particular need was something private, intimate.  She didn't even know if it was appropriate for her to speak of it to her husband, or if he would care about her suffering if she did speak of it.

His voice was strangely calming when he spoke.

"You need release?"

Lyra didn't know what he meant, but found herself nodding as she clutched her arms around herself.  "I'm not sure...I just need something."

"Something you want _me_ to give you."  His face bore the slightest hint of amusement, an undercurrent that ran almost mockingly beneath the threatening face he normally wore for her.  "And what exactly do you think it is that I can do for you, Lyra?"

The way he spoke her name startled her.  His voice caressed it, it left his lips with a nearly loving lilt that she knew she had to have imagined.  Loki didn't love her...he barely tolerated her presence and would be rid of her immediately once she'd fulfilled her duty to the throne.  He was mocking her with a false tenderness that would never find its way into his actions.  And this, at best, was him playing with her.

"I don't know, Sire."  She dared to look at him with pleading eyes and for the briefest of moments imagined she saw pity in his.  He reached his hand out and touched her cheek, brushing the backs of his fingers briefly across to her lips.  And then his expression shifted to something less pitying and more teasing.

"Were you raised in a convent?  Did no one ever teach you how to relieve yourself?  Had you no playmates to engage you in naughty games of physician and patient?"

Embarrassment brought a heated flush to her chest and she lowered her face in shame.  "No, Sire.  I was brought to the Queen's employ as a very young child and I have been raised by the handmaidens."

"And now _you_ are the queen and have handmaidens of your own."

The absurdity of her situation suddenly felt heavy and crushing and Lyra felt tears burn her eyes.  But she refused to let them fall.  To let Loki see her like this, whining and needy, was bad enough...but to allow him to see her brought to tears by his words was just courting more trouble than she felt like dealing with.  She knew the King would revel in her discomfort and find some horrible way to inflict more of it on her in his gleefully cruel dominance.  He needed no easy excuse to do so.

"Yes, Sire.  But I hold to no delusions that I have earned this honor through any merit of my own."

Loki's brow cocked in curiosity.  "Oh?  And how, pray tell, do you think you _did_ come to this honor?"

"By merit of my blood.  I am told my father was brother to the king of Adelheim."

"You do not remember him?"

"No Sire, I was very young when I was taken."

"You were taken for your royal blood, you know that."

"Yes Sire."

"And for that same asset, your royal blood, you were chosen for me."

"Yes, Sire."

"And this would be the same royal blood that stained my sheets crimson on our wedding night."

A wince.  "Yes, Sire."

Loki sneered, having taken the fight out of her with only a few words.  "Come here, _queen."_

 

Lyra obeyed, her face still lowered to hide her expression from the king.  She knew her countenance conveyed humiliation and dread, but she was determined not to show it to him.  If he made her look at him, she would quickly let a mask of indifference fall into place, a trick she had learned as a child when she was tormented in the playground areas of the courtyard by two boys, black haired twins, who claimed the right to treat her as they wished because their father was a prince.  Her tears had only provoked them, so she had learned how to hide them.  But the twins were dead now and she was queen, married to their father.

Their father, who was now king.

And he was no kinder to her than they had been.

He stood as she came around the bed to him, grabbing her forcibly by the hips and turning her around so that her back was to his chest.  He took a handful of her hair and tugged her head back with a vicious hard pull that made her gasp in pain;  with his lips close to her ear, he hissed threateningly, "It is not my duty to teach such elementary things to you, little one.  Might I suggest you take a lover for such instruction?"  His voice took on a dark, malicious edge, dripping with a biting sarcasm and hatred that chilled her.  "My brother Thor, perhaps?  I'm sure he would be _all too happy_ to teach you how to find the pleasure you desire."

Moving his grip to the back of her neck, he bent her over the bed and yanked her nightgown up, pressing up against her bottom to keep her pinned to the edge of the mattress while he readied himself.

_"Please Sire!"_

He ignored the pleading in her voice and pushed into her roughly, slapping her ass hard to silence her when she made a sound of pain - or perhaps it was indignation, it didn't matter to him either way, he just knew he didn't want to hear anything from her while he sought his own pleasure.  Lyra took it quietly and without complaint, though his rough handling and hard thrusting hurt her;  she wasn't ready for him and her body tensed in a vain attempt to keep him out.  But she knew better than to move or try to wriggle out of his grasp, or to even seek a more comfortable position...any movement, purposeful or accidental, was met with either a harsh warning to be still or a hard slap to the behind.  And every time his hand struck her, her face burned hot with the indignity of being spanked by a man for no transgression.

Loki's breathing and the increase in both the speed and volume of his grunts from behind her gave her warning that it was nearly over.  Gripping the bedsheets, she buried her face in the emerald silk and willed herself to bear it, just a little while longer.  He would be finished with her soon and she could rest, letting his seed hopefully take root, then bathe and wash away the ache of his brutality and the wetness he'd leave behind.  But it would do nothing for the wetness that she made herself...no matter how many times she washed, she found it kept returning, along with that warm ache in her belly that never found satisfaction.

Her husband's hands gripped her hips tightly, so tightly that she felt certain there would be purplish bruises where his fingers dug into her skin by next morning.  When he finally finished he groaned loudly and cursed, thrusting so hard against her backside that she lost her footing and sprawled on the bed with him on top of her, his weight crushing her into the mattress.  But he didn't get up, instead laying on her back with his cock still inside her, his body trembling as he pumped the last few drops of his seed into her.

That aching need was still there, still quietly twisting in her belly, despite the uncaring way Loki had taken her.  Lyra felt ashamed that his attentions seemed to awaken that need, which to her seemed such a pleasant thing, even if it frustrated her.  How could his brutal unkindness, his forceful satisfying of his own needs with no regard to hers, spark such a thing in her?  It seemed wrong, a travesty, a betrayal by her own body.  But she couldn't deny that his touch, no matter how harsh, awoke the need.

The frustrated groan that escaped her lips took her by surprise and she slapped her hand over her mouth, hoping Loki was too lost in his own ecstasy to have heard it.  She thought maybe she'd gotten away with it as he pulled out with a sharp hiss and she felt his weight leave her, but her stomach dropped when she felt him grab her roughly by her ankles. 

Flipping her over onto her back and tugging her to the edge of the bed, Loki pushed her legs apart and shoved his hand against her, rubbing her lasciviously with his palm.  The intrusion took her by surprise and she cried out in shock and dismay at the indignity of having to look him in the face while he touched her this way, in the bright light of the bedside candles he'd used his magic to set aflame, without the comforting cloak of darkness or the bed's blankets to shield her from his burning eyes.

But her humiliation was blissfully short lived, as Loki had no interest in anything more than a quick affront to her sense of decency.  He grinned wickedly, his palm stroking roughly against her, causing her to suck in her breath quickly and then groan when he took it away.

"This is where you'll find it," he said, his voice low and teasing as he drew his hand away and then gave her a quick little slap where he'd been rubbing.  She yelped with the sting of his palm against her sensitive bits, made even more sensitive by his brief attention to them.  "And that is the extent of my teaching."

 

 

_To be continued..._


	5. Payback

 

 

That afternoon as Lyra sat reading in the garden nearest the courtyard, the sound of men's voices caught her attention.  She recognized Thor immediately, but the other voice wasn't familiar and she realized the two were discussing matters of state.  She stopped listening;  such matters were no concern of hers, even though she was queen.  Her title was just that - a title, something that she slipped into like a dress whenever it was time to be seen by others.  But she had no power, no voice, and no authority.  And with Loki as king, she would never be given the opportunity to become anything more than the means to an end.

The thought saddened her, though she knew she was fortunate to have been chosen for this.  As royal progeny from an enemy kingdom, it had been within her captor's rights to execute her, imprison her, or subject her to a lifetime of cruel enslavement.  But Odin had instead placed herself and the other stolen children from her realm into positions around the palace that allowed them to grow up as Asgardians, with training for vocations and the opportunity to have an education if they desired it.  Lyra had chosen to avail herself of this rare chance to receive learning and excelled in her schooling, finishing in the top of her classes.  Queen Frigga had taken her into her personal staff and treated her like any Asgardian child, but since her husband Odin's death, she had withdrawn from the public eye and Lyra had not seen her since the wedding.

"My Lady."

Thor's deep voice took her by surprise and she jumped, startled, dropping her book from off her lap.  She reached for it, suddenly scared that he would know she had taken it from the king's library without permission, but Thor bent quickly to retrieve it and placed it in her hands with a respectful bow of his head, never even looking at the book.  As the King's first advisor as well as a prince of the realm, he was under no obligation to show the same obeisance to her as her subjects were, but she had noticed he always did it anyway;  a bow of the head, a casting down of his eyes rather than meeting hers when her husband was present, a bend of his knee if she was standing.  His voice was always kind when he addressed her, his eyes looking at her with neither lust nor disdain but a deep respect that she knew she had not earned.  She hugged the book to her stomach, subconsciously trying to hide it, and a little smile crinkled up the corners of Thor's eyes.

_Might I suggest you take a lover for such instruction?  My brother Thor, perhaps?_

The King's words rushed into her head and she hurriedly pushed them out.  She knew he must have mistresses, no doubt many - his absence from their bed so many nights left no question in her mind as to his whereabouts when he wasn't with her.  But she slept in his bed for one reason only, and she intended to fulfill that obligation.  Taking a lover would only complicate things and possibly stir more negative reactions in Loki toward her, and that she could not afford.  She had no doubt that if she fell from grace, it would be a very hard fall.  She also had no doubt that his words had been spoken as a taunt only...following his malicious suggestion very well might result in her execution, depending on Loki's mood when he found out she'd taken his taunting advice.

It would also place Thor at risk, and all he had ever been was kind to her.

She nodded, thanking him for picking up her book as she nervously wrapped her shawl around it, then sat in an uncomfortable silence as he watched her.  That crinkly smile was still squinting his eyes when he finally spoke again.

"Are you well, Majesty?"

Lyra's head jerked up and she looked at him in confusion.   _Majesty_ was an address reserved for the true monarchy, not for her.

"You mustn't call me that," she chastised him quietly, her eyes nervously darting past his broad shoulders to see if anyone had overheard.  "I am not a true queen."

"Oh but my Lady, you are.  You've earned the title by simple merit of putting up with the king without murdering him in his sleep."

His words shocked her, but she could see by the teasing grin on his face that he was trying to make her laugh.

"Loki is not so bad, once you...get used to him."

A thunderous laugh erupted from Thor's throat and he threw his head back, his big hand coming up to cover his face as if to silence his outburst.  "My Queen, I don't believe I have ever heard him summed up quite so succinctly before.  Or so politely."  He finally stilled his laughter and looked at her again, his eyes kind as they fell to her face.  "My brother, he can be... _difficult."_

She nodded;  she knew Loki's story, or part of it at least.  How he had lost his family, his wife and sons slaughtered.  It felt strange, having known the boys, having been the target of their childish taunting.  They had been younger than her, but they were tall and strong for their age and feared nothing, much like their father.  She remembered how much they'd looked like him.

"Difficult...yes, I think he prides himself on that.  But I have dealt with difficult before, I think I can handle him."

Thor's eyebrow shot up and that grin began to manifest itself again.  "I'm sure you can, _Majesty."_  He exaggerated that word, but not mockingly, as he bowed to her and raised his head to give her the full effect of his smile, his voice dropping low so that only she could hear.  "But if he gets out of control, please know that you can call on me."

 

That night, Loki curled up to Lyra from behind, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair as he sighed deeply.  She tried not to tense in his embrace; she'd learned from experience that it angered him, often provoking him to cruelty, so she lay very still in his arms and concentrated on timing her own breathing with his to keep herself calm.  But his embrace went no further than a quick tug to bring her back against him, and within moments, the king was asleep.

 

The following morning he was in a vicious mood, taken by one of his sudden changes in disposition so quickly that Lyra didn't even realize he was angry until he had struck her.  It wasn't a hard blow;  just an openhanded slap that stung her cheek, but she wasn't expecting it and the force of it put her on the floor.

"Remember this the next time you choose to meet in secret with my brother, _whore."_

Shocked, Lyra looked up at Loki, still on the floor at his feet and holding her hand over her stinging cheek.  "My Lord?  I don't understand - "  Her voice choked but she refused to cry in front of him.

"Do _not_   feign innocence with me, girl.  Do you think you are not watched every moment that you aren't in my presence?  How stupid of a child _are_ you?"  He reached down to grab her by the arm, yanking her up off the floor and sitting her down roughly on the edge of the bed.  His eyes darted quickly to her face where he'd hit her, the anger lowering for just a brief moment before it fell over his gaze again.

In that short moment when she saw his fierceness drop, Lyra made her decision that he wasn't going to make her cower.

"I am aware that I am watched, Sire - your jealousy is famed and I am not ignorant of it, nor of your proclivity to punish those whom you feel have wronged you.  Which is why I was _alone_ in the garden when your brother happened upon my reading spot by chance."

Loki's eyes narrowed and he stared at her, surprised that she wasn't sobbing and begging his forgiveness.

"Yes, I have seen your little stash of books under the bed."  There was the slightest hint of a grin, though Lyra was certain she must have imagined it.  "I don't recall giving you permission to read, and certainly not to take my books without asking."

Now she was afraid.  She hadn't been when he hit her, nor when he was accusing her of impropriety, but he knew about the books, and that sent a shiver of fear through her.

"Forgive me Sire, I was going to return them."

Loki caught the tremor of dread in her voice, the sudden shift from strong and defiant to weak and afraid, and it stroked the snarling beast within him till he could barely hold it back.  He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to look at him as he put his face close to hers, so close that she could feel his heated breath on the still stinging slap mark on her cheek.

_"See to it that you do."_

 

The Queen knew she had been very, very lucky.  Loki's rage had departed as suddenly as it had arrived, though it hadn't taken enough of his irritation with it to keep him from forcing himself on her.  She lay quiet and still as he used her body, waiting for it to be over, and when it was he left the chambers quickly and without a word, for which she was grateful.  Any more words from Loki might have resulted in her being forbidden to read, or to touch his books again, and the thought of being left with nothing to occupy her mind scared her more than the prospect of being beaten for her transgressions.

He hadn't said she couldn't read his books.  That was something, at least.

She waited, giving him time to be completely gone from their wing of the palace before she rose to dress.  Her body ached from his roughness, dark bruises already forming where his hands had gripped tightly and little purplish marks where his mouth had sucked or bitten her skin.  She was glad for these marks, they were a reminder to her to always be on the alert, to never underestimate him or assume he had good intentions toward her.  For though he might smile charmingly or speak flatteringly, he was a wolf inside, and wolves, she knew, could be neither tamed nor trusted.

 

Loki was taking his customary shortcut through the gardens when a shadow fell across his path.  He looked up, smirking, knowing before his eyes even fell upon the caster of that shadow that it would be his brother.

"Thor, always a pleasure to see you," he drawled, sarcasm dripping from every word.  "I understand you've taken a liking to the gardens recently - quite like my little queen, who likewise seems quite fond of spending time here now."

The insinuation wasn't lost on Thor and he bridled, hands clenching into fists.

"I saw your queen just now in the kitchens, Loki.  The flush in her cheeks bears a remarkable resemblance to the shape of your hand."

"Oh?  Meeting in the kitchens now, are you?   _Well at least it's where she belongs."_

There was a moment of silence between them, each brother waiting for the other to make the first move.  Loki was enjoying this, watching Thor's temper rise, knowing he was the cause.  He watched with amusement, his reflexes attuned, ready for it to begin.

 

"You've had an assbeating coming for a long time, little brother," Thor finally growled, raising one giant fist to point accusingly at Loki.  " - and I'm just the man to give it to you."

"Is that so?"  Loki's sneer betrayed no fear or apprehension at taking his brother on.  "An Asgardian asswhipping.  I can't _wait_ to see this."  He motioned with his hands, a  _bring it_  gesture meant to provoke Thor to attack in anger instead of careful calculation.  But Thor knew Loki's tactics and refused to be goaded into making a mistake so quickly.

"You've made it your mission to punish your wife for the sins of others and I intend to judge you right here and now for that."

Loki winced visibly at  _your wife,_  but his eyes turned icy as his cold sneer fell back into place.  "Do not refer to that whore as my wife.  It is a title afforded her by law,  _not_  by me."

"As King you are the law, Loki."

"Then why must I abide by it when it suits me so ill?!"

"Asgard needs a queen."

_"Then let Asgard fuck her!"_

The expression that replaced the anger in Thor's face was one of confusion and disbelief.  "Is it truly so difficult for you to do your duty, Loki?"

"Difficult?  No, not difficult, not in the least.  She is quite easy to bed, willing and compliant.  And you've seen her, she's not hard to look at -  _as I know you are well aware."_   There was a vicious insinuation in his last words and his eyes burned into Thor's face with a possessive hatred.  He might despise his bride, but she belonged to  _him,_  she was  _his_  property.  How  _dare_  anyone gaze upon her with lustful appreciation, least of all his own brother?  "Should I give her to you Thor, with my blessing?  Here, take the queen, get offspring from her in my behalf - after all, you chose her, so she _must_ meet with your approval."

There was a moment when realization dawned and Loki slowly smiled, a chilling tip of his lips with no mirth or happiness to it, only a twisted boiling spite.  Thor felt his stomach drop as he waited for the words to fall from his brother's mouth.

_"You chose her_...knowing I would despise her and she would come to you.  She was _your choice..._ of all the little stolen girls, you picked _her."_

"Loki, no - "

"Liar!"

The flame that shot from Loki's left hand deflected off Thor's shoulder armor, setting a tree behind him afire.  Thor ducked and spun, swinging his foot out to take Loki's legs from under him, and the two crashed to the ground in a twisted cursing mass of anger and hate and long simmering resentment wrapped in a dangerously out of control show of arrogant force.  At this close range neither could effectively use their powers, so they were reduced to rolling in the dirt, throwing punches and using elbows and knees in a vain attempt to subdue one another.  Loki gained the upper hand for a moment and sat on Thor's chest, his hands gripping his brother's throat in a choke hold sparking with a burning magic that seared the flesh, leaving the acrid scent of charred skin wafting in the air.  Thor threw him off easily and rolled to his feet, hands clutching his injured neck.

"No one has wronged you, brother!" he shouted, his eyes locked on the king as he found his footing and stood.  "Your anger is misguided, your rage cruel.  She deserves none of it!"

"She deserves whatever I choose to give her!"

Thor shook his head in exasperation and turned to walk away.  His keen warrior senses alerted him to Loki's approach from behind and he turned, fist raised, and punched him squarely in the face.  Loki went down, his mouth bloodied, his fearsome rage quelled for the moment by the surprise of suddenly finding himself on his back in the dirt.

"Consider that payback for the mark on Lyra's cheek," Thor snarled, turning his back again to leave, knowing this time Loki would not come after him.

 

 

_To be continued..._


	6. Release

 

 

Night was falling over Asgard, setting the golden spires of the palace alight with a pinkish flame as the sun sank slowly beneath the horizon.  Loki sat on the balcony of his bedchambers, downing the last of a bottle of his family's finest wine, alone.  He'd sent Lyra to bed without him and wandered out onto the balcony to be by himself with the intention of getting drunk, maybe visiting one of the palace brothels, likely passing out in the hallway outside his own chambers afterwards.  It was a fine Asgardian tradition, to drink until one's brain shut down, leaving your body an empty lump crumpled on the floor, pissing itself.  He laughed a little at how the Jotun side of him seemed so much more civilized in light of some of the things the Aesir found delight in.

_You chose her for yourself, not for me._

_I chose her because she was the finest the royal captives had to offer and I knew she would make a good queen._

_You chose the one that appealed to you the most, knowing she would seek solace in your arms once my cruelty and indifference became too much for her._

_No, Loki...and even if it were so, she is stronger than you give her credit for._

_And how do you figure that, exactly?_

_She's still with you._

Deep in his heart he knew Thor was right.  She would make a fine queen.  But when he looked at her, there was nothing but coldness in his heart. Despite her innocence, her beauty, her inherent goodness, he found himself barely tolerating her...he hated finding her in his bed at night, he despised having to fuck her in the hopes of getting her pregnant to appease his brother and the royal council.  And so he took his anger and rage and hatred out on her, brutalizing her in every way his twisted mind could conjure.  If he had to be subjected to her, she would have to be subjected to him.

But still she survived him.

 

_She is still with me because she cannot leave._

_She could bash your head in with a candelabra while you sleep, but she hasn't._

_You base your appraisal of her strength of character and fitness to rule at my side on the fact that she hasn't murdered me yet?_

_Yes, I do._

His brother's analysis of the royal marriage was unsettling, but accurate.  Lyra was a good match for him, as arranged marriages go.  He could have done worse.

 

Half drunk, Loki went back into the bedchamber, swaying slightly as he dropped into an armchair next to the bed.  Lyra was sleeping, having long since tired of waiting for him.  He let his eyes roam over her, her soft curves, the tiny lush body that he secretly found so desirable.  She was nothing like Sigyn.  His beautiful Sigyn.  She had been tall and willowy, nearly as tall as he, long and lean and strong with legs that went on for two forevers.  Her face held such a strong beauty, otherworldly and ethereal.  He never tired of looking at her, of drinking in her loveliness.  He glanced over at the girl in his bed.  If Sigyn was the sun, this little person was the moon.  And though he had nothing against the moon, the truth of it was that it only held the sky while the sun was gone.

"Lyra, wake up."

She stirred, moaning softly, but didn't rouse from her slumber quickly enough to suit him, so he stretched one leg out and kicked the bed.

 _"Wake up, your Majesty_ \- I have a surprise for you."

Lyra sat up quickly, blinking in panic, looking around the room to try to ascertain what was wrong.  She saw nothing but Loki, sitting in the chair, staring at her with a smirk on his face that she recognized.  It was the smile he wore when he was about to do something awful, a twisted, dangerous grin that both issued a warning and a condolence.  The warning being that you were doomed, the condolence being that it was too late to do anything about it.

"Yes, Sire?"

He propped his feet up on the edge of the bed, still wearing his boots.  "It's been brought to my attention that you've been a good girl and that I've been a reprehensible dick."

She stared at him, not understanding.

"Dick, Sire?"

Loki waved a hand, rolling his eyes.  "Thor and his beloved Midgardian terminology.  I believe it means asshole."  Her face still registered a lack of comprehension, so he moved on.  "Anyway, you've proven yourself resilient enough to withstand my somewhat _mercurial_ temperament, and for that I feel you should have something you want."

Lyra stared wide eyed in confusion as a second Loki, her husband's perfect duplicate, crawled up the foot of the bed toward her.  His face bore the same malicious smirk as the king and when he reached her, his hands on her ankles were cool and real.

"What is this?" she gasped, backing away, scrambling backward till her head bumped the ornately carved headboard behind her.  The second Loki was still advancing on her with that wicked gleam in his eyes, that evil grin pulling up the corners of his mouth.  There was nowhere else for her to go so she had no choice but to let him catch her.  She cast a quick glance over to Loki where he sat, watching with the same look on his face as his twin.

"Do you like him?"

"What?  What is he?"

"Why he's me, darling.  Can't you see that?"

He sat back with a grin of dark malicious glee.  "There's no procreation involved in this, so he can do it for me."

"Do what?"

"He's going to teach you that little trick you've been longing to learn."

Lyra had no idea what he meant, but when the double grabbed her roughly by the knees and yanked her downward, making her fall onto her back on the pillows, she felt a shimmer of excitement tear through her.  It was frightening and exhilarating and it chilled her to her bones, and something in her made the conscious decision not to resist whatever was about to happen to her.  She closed her eyes as he pushed her nightgown up to her hips, knowing Loki's gaze was upon her but not caring.  He was making this happen, was he not?  Obviously he intended to watch.  Was he controlling his double?  If so, wouldn't that mean that this -  _thing_  - was actually him?

But then his hands were sliding up the insides of her thighs and spreading them, his body moving like a big graceful cat to kneel between her knees, head dipping to disappear into that space where only Loki had lain.  His hands moved further up her body to push her onto her back, making her lie prone, then settling on her hips to hold her still as he pushed his face into her.

Lyra's breath caught in shocked surprise when she felt him pressing his mouth to her private parts;  she didn't know if this was normal or proper, but it felt as incredible as it did unusual and she quickly accepted it, her hands coming down to tangle in the silky black hair that was tickling her naked thighs.  A moan escaped her throat as his warm tongue darted out and licked her;  she had scarcely enough time to catch her breath before he clamped his mouth around her clit and began to suck.

The jolt of electrically charged pleasure that shot through her body was terrifying in its intensity and she arched violently, crying out, letting go of the clone's hair to grip the pillows behind her head.  She could hear Loki chuckling - or was it the double? - but all she could think about was the incredible heated bliss that was rising quickly in her belly.  Incomprehensible sounds were spilling from her throat, no understandable words, just noises that sounded to her own ears like a child in distress.  Was that what she was?  A child in distress?  She could barely even think, and closed her eyes to lose herself in the sensation, no longer caring about anything but what was happening between her legs.

His tongue moved on her quickly, licking and sucking, flicking at that sensitive spot that Loki had made her so keenly aware of but that she had never dared to touch herself.  And then the heat in her belly began to intensify, mimicking the feeling she got when Loki joined his body with hers, but surpassing it quickly and becoming so unbearable that she cried out from the sheer reckless intensity of it.  She felt hands on her breasts but couldn't open her eyes to see if they belonged to Loki or to his twin - she supposed it didn't matter, and when long, strong fingers pinched her nipples, she felt the clenching tension in her lower body rise to a fever pitch and explode, bursting through her entire body, shimmering with a pulsating life of its own.

It seemed to take forever for the throbbing waves of pleasure to subside, and when they finally did, Lyra heard her own voice, the sound of her own panting and moaning, all mingled with the soft slurping sounds of Loki's duplicate, still lapping at her.  She looked down at him, at the dark head between her legs, and willed herself to drag her eyes away.  That wasn't Loki, it wasn't her husband...was it?

She heard another sound, a low moan of pleasure, and dared to look at him, the _real_ Loki, seated there in the chair beside the bed, leaning back with his eyes trained on her.  He was licking his lips, a look of pure satisfaction on his face.

"You are _delicious,_ my little queen," he purred, looking every bit like the cat that had stolen the cream.

 

It was several days again before Loki slept with his wife.  The night he'd give her her first taste of pleasure - or rather, guided his double to do it in his behalf - he had dismissed the wraith with a flick of his wrist that rendered it into nothingness before Lyra's shocked eyes.  She had never seen her husband do magic other than the simple lighting of candles and it intrigued her as much as it astounded her, but it wasn't the time for asking how tricks were perpetrated. He had tugged his boots off and undressed in front of her, climbing onto the bed to collapse on top of her, the excess of alcohol making him sleepy and giggly as he clumsily handled her body in the darkness. Lyra had closed her eyes and tolerated his roughness; the relief of her climax had made her feel relaxed and drowsy but still wanting, and Loki was willing to fill her emptiness with himself.  She slipped her arms around his neck and held him while he thrust into her, opening her legs without struggle to allow him access to the parts of her that were still warm, still wet, still throbbing softly with the slowly dissipating thrill of her first long drink of ecstasy.

But despite her best efforts at fulfilling her queenly duties to the throne, her cycles came, bringing a crashing weight of disappointment down on her shoulders when she woke the next morning and found blood on the sheets.  She knew it wasn't from Loki's rough treatment of her - he'd been far from gentle, but he hadn't injured her.  She fought back tears as she climbed out of the bed, trying to smile in response to the chamber maid's sympathetic look.  She knew the palace staff pitied her, they all had borne the fury of the king's mood swings at one time or another.  She helped the woman strip the sheets from the big bed and then went to bathe, dismissing her handmaid to dress on her own.  She didn't want anyone around her today.  Her failure meant another month of tolerating her husband's moods, his violent unpredictable temper and his rude, uncaring attentions.  Another month of sleeping with the king.

 

"He resents you because he misses his wife Sigyn.  To him you are a paltry replacement - which I assure you my dear, you are not."  The Queen Mother gave her the same pitying look the chamber maid had earlier that morning.  "Don't worry, I'm sure he will warm to you in time."

Frigga's words should have been a comfort, but they weren't.  She'd been locked away in her own wing of the palace, blind to everything going on inside its walls outside of her own chambers.  She'd been seen rarely since the wedding, refusing all visitors, not even allowing Lyra to come sit with her as she'd promised.  But now that the girl was here, Frigga hugged her warmly and smiled that beautiful, motherly smile that Lyra remembered from her childhood.  "You are queen now.  Loki will come to love you as much as the rest of the kingdom does.  And once you bear him children - "

Lyra winced, pulling away from the embrace and sitting down heavily.  Frigga raised an eyebrow, motioning to a servant to bring tea as she took the seat across from her daughter in law.

"That is the disappointed look of a queen who expects far too much of herself," she chastised gently, waving the servant away while she poured the tea herself.  "A look that is all too familiar to me."

Lyra fought back tears, sipping her tea, trying not to meet Frigga's gaze over the top of her cup.  "The king's attentions are..."  - she winced - "... _frequent_...I thought I would be with child by now."

"Oh my darling, did I ever tell you how long it took for me to be blessed with a child?  It was _centuries._  And even then, it only happened for me once.  Thank the Norns it was a boy or Odin might have put shut of me and found himself a more worthy queen."

Lyra's heart clutched up at the thought of having to stay closely bound to Loki for centuries, waiting for an heir that might never come.  Perhaps it would be best that way, he would lose interest in her - what little interest he had to begin with - and send her away, taking a mistress to his bed or possibly a new queen in her place.  But to be locked away as a former wife to the king would suit her ill, as there was something else growing inside her now, even if it wasn't a child - a new awareness of herself, of her body, and of the power it held deep in its core.  The power to transcend pain and replace it with a glorious pleasure that blotted out the entire universe for the few fleeting moments of its presence.  Despite the reality of her life with Loki, he had taught her where to find that pleasure, and for this she was grateful.

Frigga was eyeing her with curiosity, a small grin turning up the corners of her mouth when she saw the pink flush creeping up the young queen's neck.  She reached out to pat her hand, giving the girl's fingers a squeeze.

"Things have a way of working out, my dear. We must be patient."

 

 

_To be continued..._


	7. Domina

 

 

Winter was coming, and Lyra felt it acutely - not just on her skin, which was better suited for the warmer climes of Adelheim, but in her soul.  She had been queen for three months, agonizing through three cycles that refused steadfastly to stop being on time.  She was growing impatient, though Loki never questioned her failure to produce an heir.  He was certainly doing his duty, and without much complaint.

He had stopped visiting the brothels, taking more of an interest in his wife now that she seemed to enjoy his attentions a bit more.  He began allowing her to find release during their intimate relations, sometimes helping her, sometimes leaving her wanting so that he could fulfill her needs later, when she was desperate for him.  Depending on his mood, he would either bring her to the relentless screaming brink of ecstasy or deny her any relief at all, a torment that Lyra secretly found arousing, as it meant she could feel that delicious needy sensation in her lower parts until Loki finally agreed to give her what she wanted so desperately.  He enjoyed hearing her beg, seeing her face agonized with unfulfilled desire that only he could relieve.  He forbade her to touch herself, taking complete power over whether she suffered the discomfort of denial or the contentment of bliss.

It became something of a game between them, though neither of them let on to the other that it was enjoyable or satisfactory.  Loki veered recklessly from indulgent and accommodating to churlish and recalcitrant, while Lyra played the obedient wife, tolerating his dark moods and enjoying his upswings when they came.  If he allowed her the satisfaction of release, she reveled in it, taking as much as he would give.  And when he didn't, she waited patiently for him to become cooperative again, obeying his command to only seek pleasure from him.

"This is _mine,"_ he growled, his hand pressed between her legs, holding her soft womanhood in his palm while his strong fingers stroked her.  "No one is to touch it - _ever._  Not even you, for any purpose that I can fulfill."

Lyra had nodded, breathless at his touch, eager to please him with her compliance.  "Yes, Sire."

His fingers dug into her mercilessly, his lips pressing closer against her ear, voice dropping to a more sinister snarl as he added his final terms. _"I will kill you_ if you ever disobey me on this.  Do you understand?"

Her head dropped back, her body responding to the painful groping between her legs and the blatant threat with an alarming degree of arousal.  "Yes, Sire.  I understand."

Loki felt her sudden wetness in his hand and chuckled darkly against her throat, opening his mouth to bite into the soft flesh.  And then he released her from his grip, grinning wickedly at the pained groan that tumbled from her trembling lips.  Straightening his tunic, he smoothed his hair down and gave her a hard slap on the ass.

"Duty calls, my little queen."  He cast a disapproving eye over her disheveled state, at her wrinkled dress and mussed hair.  "You'd best put yourself to repair quickly, I'll expect you at my side in the throne room shortly."

Lyra's legs nearly buckled beneath her when Loki let go of her.  She shot him a withering look as he turned and strode out of the bedchamber, wishing that just once her husband wasn't quite so disagreeable. She ached with a desperate longing that she knew now wouldn't be tended to for many hours - if at all.  Sighing, she cast a glance in the standing mirror and was shocked at the state of her dress, crumpled where Loki's hands had grabbed and pulled at it, her hair messy where he'd unfastened her clip and let it fall about her shoulders, her throat reddened where he'd bitten at her skin.  But aside from all that, which was more than enough to keep her from making a presentable entrance to the throne room, there was that haunted look in her eyes, that nervous tremor to her lower lip, that betrayed the true nature of her disheveled state.

He'd brought her to a dangerous brink and left her there, gasping and wanting, and walked away.

After three long months with Loki, she'd had quite a number of colorful curse words added to her vocabulary.  

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she used them all.

 

It had been cold for a handful of nights when Loki climbed into bed and took his wife into his arms, his already questionable mood instantly turning sour when he felt the many layers of fabric between them.  He had been of a mind to have his way with her quickly and then sleep, but knowing he would have to take the time to undress her irritated him and he pushed her away from him, his face showing his disapproval.

"Why are you wearing so many clothes?"

Lyra looked him straight in the eye, a habit she'd taken to in recent days.  "Forgive me Sire, I get so cold.  The chamber is chilly and your skin is... _cool."_

His stern expression softened the slightest bit.  He knew his metabolism slipped into full Jotun when he slept;  though his skin did not turn blue, its temperature dropped, a trait he couldn't control.  "Do you get cold lying beside me at night?"

"Yes Sire, I do."

Her determination not to be cowed by his rude attitude amused him.  "I will allow you to have a fire in the hearth.  If you get cold during the night, you may leave the bed and lie in front of it until you are warmed."  His voice had softened, for just a moment, before it hardened again and he added, "For the sake of your health."

"Yes Sire."  She knew what he meant - _I need you healthy so you can bear my offspring._ His concern wasn't truly for her, but for her capacity as the bearer of his children.

He opened her robe, his hand coming up to squeeze her breast roughly.  The little hissing sound when she sucked in her breath aroused him and he squeezed harder, wanting to hear her do it again, though not necessarily for pleasurable reasons.

"Do not wear clothing to bed again," he ordered harshly, removing his hands from her and letting his face fall to an icy mask.  "Take them off."

She obeyed quickly, sitting up and slipping the robe off her shoulders.  Loki lay back on the pillows, his eyes appraising her as the clothing came away, finally revealing her naked body as she pushed the robe and her gown to the side of the big bed.

"Lie down."

Tugging the sheets up to cover herself, knowing the action would draw her husband's ire, Lyra lay back quickly, gripping the covers tightly to her chest.  The small disapproving shake of Loki's head warned her of what was coming.

He threw the sheets back, exposing her to the cold air and his even colder gaze.  She felt her nipples stiffen and tighten from the chill, a physiological response that didn't escape Loki's notice as his eyes roamed greedily over her body.  He bent his head to her breast and took one hardened peak into his mouth, sucking it, feeling his arousal take hold of him when she moaned and her back arched up, pushing her lush breast against his face.  He gave the hard nipple a bite, forcing a dismayed yelp from her throat as he let it go and moved to stretch out over her, covering her body completely with his.  She gasped under him as a sudden warmth spread through his skin, infusing itself into her, taking the chill off and warming her gently.  He looked down into her face and smirked.

"How do you do that, Sire?"  He was so warm now, his skin radiating a welcoming heat so rapidly that the shiver had come completely off her in only a matter of moments.  She slipped her hands around his back and pressed herself up against him.

"Common parlor tricks," he answered quietly, his mouth sucking little purplish marks into her throat.

 

As he began moving on her, she moaned and wriggled under him until she was more comfortable.  Loki barked at her to lie still, but she disobeyed, earning a smack to the inside of her bare thigh that brought a yelp from her but didn't still her squirming.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked harshly, pushing her back to where he wanted her, only to have her wriggle out from under him again.  "Stop doing that!"  He was considering using his magic to conjure restraints when she groaned, whining and panting while she twisted beneath his chest. 

_"_ _I...I need..."_

Loki pressed his lips to her temple.  "What do you need?" he whispered softly, a sudden uncharacteristic tenderness overtaking him.  She sounded so desperate.

"I don't know.  I need... _something..."_

Loki lifted his chest off her and let her move freely, waiting for her to settle before turning her face to his with a hand gripping her chin.

"Tell me."

Her eyes met his, an agonized look of pure need veiling the soft crystalline green of her irises.

_"More."_

 

She pushed against his chest, trying to move him, not knowing how she wanted him but knowing somehow, instinctively, that she didn't want him on top of her.  She was aching somewhere deep between her legs and frustration was taking her patience;  when Loki resisted, she whined and pushed harder on his shoulder, making an impatient little fussing sound that amused him.  Grinning, he finally cooperated and let her topple him, rolling over onto his back on the soft mattress.

"Enjoy this now, little one," he said suggestively, with a mildly threatening tone to his deep voice.  "It's not often I let a woman push me around in bed."

Lyra furrowed her brow and scowled at him as she climbed on top to straddle his stomach.  "Forgive me Sire, but please stop talking."

A laugh burst from Loki's throat.  Did she just tell him to shut up?  He grabbed her hands and held them to her sides, rendering her momentarily immobile despite her best efforts to wrest herself from his grip. "I'm afraid you won't find what you're looking for there," he chuckled, indicating his stomach where she was perched, rubbing herself frantically against him.  "The pertinent equipment you seek is slightly lower."  He bucked his hips up, knocking her off balance so that she fell forward onto his chest.  While her bottom was in the air he gave it a hard slap, immediately stirring her indignation so that she cursed in her native tongue.

A pitiful groan rumbled in her throat as she moved back and positioned herself over him, reaching down to grasp him with her hand.  She raised her head quickly, silently asking his permission to handle him;  he paused a moment, his eyes burning into hers, then nodded his approval.  An excited smile crossed her face briefly and she gripped him without hesitation, holding his cock upright and nudging the tip into her folds.  Loki gasped, sucking in his breath with a low hiss as he felt himself stiffen in her hand.  He'd been aroused by the sight of her naked body on top of him, but now the soft, firm grip of her hand around his shaft was waking something else in him - a burning desire coupled with an uncustomary willingness to let her take control.

He watched her face as she slowly lowered herself on him, taking his cock into her body an inch at a time;  he felt impatient and longed to fill her quickly, completely, but he knew that this position would put him into her more deeply than if he was on top of her.  Willing himself to relax and fight back his natural urge to take over, he allowed her to take him as slowly as she needed in the interest of not hurting her.

_Uncustomary and unwise, Laufeyson.  You're spoiling the girl._

But as she finally worked him all the way into herself and her head fell forward, her eyes closed tight and her face scrunched up with the discomfort of her body stretching around his girth, his misgivings faded.

"Lyra," he whispered.  She raised her head and he saw pain in her eyes, almost hidden by desire, but visible.  "Give your king a kiss, little queen."

She stared at him, suspicious of his intent, but obeyed;  lowering her chest to his, she gave him her lips while his hands rubbed slowly over her hips and up her sides, calming her with gentle caresses till the tension in her body lessened.  A groan escaped her lips when his cool palms slid down over her bottom, grasping her cheeks and spreading them as his strong fingers kneaded her flesh.  Moving them under her to dip into the rapidly forming slickness that had already begun trickling out of her around his cock, he wet his fingers and slid them back up her crevice to tease at her other opening.

The surprised gasp that left her lips enraged his passion and he plundered the sensitive, tight little hole with a fingertip, pushing it in far enough to make her back arch.  This secondary penetration brought her arousal to a fever pitch and she sat up, pushing down on his cock and his hand, forcing both of them further into her with a stuttering moan that made Loki so hard he felt he would burst if she didn't start pumping him soon.

 _"Fuck me, Lyra,"_   he groaned with a dangerously growing impatience.  He could feel himself swelling inside her and when she began to move, sliding up and down on him slowly, it took all his self control not to throw her over onto her back and pound into her till he exploded deep in her womb.  

She felt the urgency in him, crying out when he bucked his hips up under her, driving himself deep...sucking in her breath, Lyra slammed down on Loki's groin, a scream breaking from her throat at the shock of his cock ramming her cervix.

But the pain was intensely, deeply, _frighteningly_ arousing, and once she'd done it twice more, the sensation was no longer unbearable.  Her body adjusted to his size, stretching till she could take him comfortably, and once that comfort mixed with the sharp stabbing deep in her belly, she could no longer control herself.  She rode him hard, sitting up straight on him, shameless in her lust as Loki's eyes raked over her naked body, at her soft belly and bouncing breasts and the alluringly exposed part of her where his body entered hers, at her upturned chin as her head dropped back in ecstasy.  He held her by the hips with a tight grip that was already starting to leave marks in her pale skin as he thrust upward, meeting her roughly every time she came down on him.

She rode him with an unbridled ferocity that took him by surprise, but he matched it with a fierceness of his own, hands leaving her hips to move over her body, fingers sliding down to squeeze her thighs, slipping inward to tease her clit briefly, mouth biting and sucking roughly at her breasts until she shoved him down onto his back again and pushed her fingers into his mouth.  He suckled them, watching her face dissolve into a pained ecstasy that he knew was the beginning of her orgasm.  He let her take her pleasure, watching, waiting until she was finished before letting himself go, his own release rendering him senseless for the few long moments that his body shuddered and spasmed beneath her.  It was overwhelming in its intensity and he heard himself cry out a strangled sound of uncontrolled passion, gasping and shaking as he struggled to catch his breath, his body's reactions completely out of his control.

When he was finally able to open his eyes again he found her leaning forward with her hands on his heaving chest, watching his face, a tiny smile playing enigmatically at the corners of her mouth.  If he had thought her capable of it, he would have sworn it was a self satisfied smirk.  But there was something else in that little tug of her lips.  Something he recognized, something he saw often in his own mirrored reflection.

The pride of a hard-won victory over an enemy.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 


	8. Beast

 

 

"When will your seed take root?"  Lyra rubbed her stomach, looking down at Loki petulantly.

"You wish to be rid of me so soon?  To be sent off to your own apartments to wait out your gestation away from your husband?"

The queen looked down, weighing her response carefully.  "I'm not sure."

"It was what you wanted, is it not?  To do your duty to the throne and be shut of me?"  The sudden angry edge to his voice startled her, but she didn't let it show on her face.  She was still sitting atop him, reveling in the feeling of dominance he was - surprisingly - allowing her to have over him.  She knew it could and would be taken from her at any moment, but she didn't wish to make it happen any sooner than necessary.

"I was under the impression that was _your_ desire, Sire."  

They stared at each other for a moment, then Loki's hand slipped up her flank to rest at the curve of her waist.  She kept eye contact with him, trying to read him.  "But I don't know if I want that anymore," she added softly, keeping her voice quiet and calming.  "Can people not change their minds?"

Loki chuckled, true amusement in the sound for the first time in a very long time.  "So my fearsome countenance is attractive to you now?"

"No Sire, you're still quite ugly."

A quick grin pulled at the corners of his lips, changing his fierce expression to that of the wry trickster he was known to be.  Others had told Lyra of Loki's personality before the tragedies, before the impetuous nature and impish winks had been erased from his soul.  She had seen it herself, the old Loki, before she knew him, before his eyes ever fell across her.  As a member of Frigga's personal staff, she had found herself in the handsome prince's presence more than once, but his warm gazes and happy smiles were reserved only for his wife back then, his playfulness and imagination shown only to his own children.  But she had caught glimpses, even though none of it was ever directed at her.  The rest was told to her by servants and palace staff that she could still convince to speak openly with her.

"What have I created?" he asked, his voice so quiet as to be almost no more than a whisper.  His hand was straying across her lower belly, fingertips ghosting lightly over her skin, a pale green glow emanating from them to send a soothing shimmer of warmth into her skin.  It extended downward, reigniting the quietly glowing ember of satisfied passion into something once again demanding and needy.

"You haven't created it so much as...turned it loose, Sire."

His brow furrowed, his gaze trained on her bellybutton, fingers still radiating heat into her.  "So...there was a beast in you, and I've let it out of its cage?"

"It would seem so, My Lord."

His eyes came up, locking onto hers.  "Why do you never use my name?"

The question took her by surprise and she returned his unblinking stare, unsure how to answer.  His eyes were heated but it wasn't lust she was seeing there, and the dizzyingly quick shift frightened her.

"I respect your sovereign authority over myself, Sire.  It would be disrespectful to the position you hold as well as to you as a person for me to address you with such...crass familiarity."

He laughed, but it didn't do anything to change the sudden darkness in his expression.  "The position I hold - _currently_ \- is one of a subordinate more than a sovereign."  He grabbed her hips and shoved her over, toppling her off of him and onto her back, quickly moving over her now prone body to reestablish his dominance.  "There, this is more befitting the title of _Sire."_  He held her hands over her head, pinning them to the mattress with his fingers entwined among hers.  "When we are in our bedchambers, alone, you may use my name."

Lyra met his stare bravely, trying not to let him goad her into fearful submission with his angry snarls and threatening glares.

"Yes, Sire."

The look Loki gave her was frozen somewhere between a burst of laughter and a scowl of disbelief.

"Did I not just tell you to use my name?"

"Yes, Sire."

A hand came down on her bare thigh, ripping a yelp from her.  "Then use it."

 _"Ahh_ \- yes, Sire."

Another smack, harder than the first.

_"Use it."_

_"Oh!"_  A sharp grimace of pain, followed by a bold locking of her eyes to his.  Loki's hand came up again, ready to make her regret defying him, even playfully.

"One last chance to obey me, little one.  Spare your leg the bruise and do as you're told."

The girl said nothing, never breaking eye contact.

"Very well then."  Lyra winced, tensing against the blow she knew was coming, steadfastly refusing to cater to his whims like a servant.  But Loki's hand didn't again redden her thigh;  instead, he grasped her hips and turned her over roughly, holding her legs still by sitting on the backs of her thighs as he viciously spanked her behind.  She squirmed and yelled but he didn't stop until her bottom was red and tender, and when he'd had enough of abusing her backside and Lyra was exhausted from sobbing and struggling, he freed himself from his breeches and took her, hard and without care, until her crying changed from pain and despair to arousal and need.  And when he sensed her nearing climax, he finished quickly and pulled out of her, leaving her gasping with unfulfilled want.

As he put himself back into his pants, straddling over her back on his knees, he looked down at her and sneered.  The emerald silk sheets under her face were stained dark with her tears.

"Now...say my name."

She drew in a stuttering breath, swallowing hard, attempting to gather her wits and enough air to form the words he insisted on hearing.  When she took too long to comply, Loki's hand slapped across her sore bottom, bitingly hard.

_"Say it."_

"Lo - "

_"SAY IT!"_

_"Loki!"_

"There," he said quietly, tenderly stroking her back, soothing her sobs.  "Now that wasn't so difficult, was it?"  His hand slid downward to rub her aching bottom, squeezing one reddened cheek hard, digging his strong fingers cruelly into the bruised flesh.  Lyra lay perfectly still and didn't react, even though it hurt bitterly.  But no matter how much her backside stung, it was nothing compared to the sting of her pride at being forced to give in...to be spanked for such a mundane thing, something that truly meant nothing...the humiliation burned a thousand times hotter than her injured skin.

But more worrisome was Loki's mood, shifting so quickly from tenderness and talk of offspring to petty demands and embarrassing punishments, treating her one moment almost like a beloved wife and then literally seconds later as if she were a bratty stepchild.  True, she had refused to submit to his simple demand, but...she was a person, the same as him, and more than that - she was queen, was she not?

She knew then that it meant nothing to Loki.  Her title was nothing more than the reason she was in his bed.  He felt no more for her than he felt for any nameless chambermaid that he could push against a wall and have his way with.  This was just simpler for him.

 _"Yes, Sire,"_   she whispered defiantly.  But the king had already scooted off the bed and was pulling on his boots, and her voice didn't reach him.

 

She waited until he'd left the bedchamber, then sat up, flinching at even the silken touch of the sheets against her inflamed skin.  The arousal he'd left untended was throbbing in her nether regions despite the pain of the spanking she'd endured and the rough sex he'd inflicted on her afterwards...but even though it ached and she was sorely tempted to touch herself to relieve it, her promise to Loki kept her from opening her legs to her own hand.

_No one touches this but me.  No one...not even you._

She balked at obeying his order to say his name on demand, but this order, this cruel command, she obeyed without question.

 

Loki stalked through the palace corridors, clenching and unclenching his fists in a silent fury that escalated as he moved quickly from the west to east wing.  He didn't know what he was looking for, but he would know it when he saw it;  his anger was seething, threatening to boil over in a dangerous explosion of wrath that would spell relief for him and possibly death for whoever happened to be in the way when it erupted.  He didn't know why he felt so provoked by Lyra's defiance;  it was a matter of little consequence, but her refusal to acknowledge his absolute power over her had rubbed him horribly wrong.  

It was late and the corridors were deserted.  Perhaps it was for the best...he would only abuse whoever crossed his path.  If they were male, he would likely attack - if female, he would likely attack as well, just differently.  Though he had sated his lustful passion on Lyra, he still felt unsettled, frustrated, tense, as if he hadn't found relief inside her body.  He didn't truly want to force himself on anyone, so he kept walking, listening carefully for sounds of activity behind closed doors as he passed.

Finally, the noise of men talking, laughing, the sound of metal tankards clanking.  One of the mead halls was occupied.

_Oh good...warriors, getting drunk and probably itching to brawl._

Loki kicked the tall doors open and burst into the hall, glaring around till his eyes fell on the one face that raised to look at him.

_Thor._

"Brother!  Come, join us, we're celebrating the - "

His announcement was cut short by Loki's fist crashing into his face.  Taken by surprise, Thor sat down hard, stunned by the blow.  For someone with such delicate hands, Loki always managed to surprise him with the sheer strength of his punches...it was his belief that his brother secretly packed magic into his knuckles, but he could never prove it.

"Fight me, Thor!"

"Loki what the fuck?"

_"FIGHT ME!!"_

 

Two other warriors stood up on either side of Thor, but he waved them away with a hand bloodied by his own broken nose.  "Settle down, Loki...I don't know what has you so angry, but I doubt it has anything to do with me."

"It matters not the cause of my ire, only that you are disobeying a direct order from your king and I would have you executed for less!"

A grin broke across Thor's face, bringing a wince with it as his bruised nose and lip protested the movement.  "It sounds as if someone else has defied our king this night."

Loki bridled, glaring murderously around the room at Thor's friends, expecting them to mock him with laughter as they realized what Thor was insinuating.  But he heard no laughter, only sympathetic murmurings and heads nodding in agreement.  Someone poured a huge tankard of mead and held it out to him, urging him to take it and join them.  Another warrior stood and pulled his chair out, moving so that Loki could sit.

Confused, the king finally took the proffered drink and sat, sharing the table with his brother and the men who comprised the upper ranks of his army.  He'd never been invited to drink with Thor and his friends before...but then, he'd never been king before.

But they didn't treat him like their king this night.  They treated him as an equal, raising toasts to each other's conquests, gossiping about wives, significant others, and various maidens that had either frustrated or baffled them with their decidedly nonsensical female ways.  Loki found himself nodding and raising his tankard along with them till long into the night, when finally his brother helped him home to his own wing of the palace, half carrying him under the intoxicating weight of all the mead.  Lyra opened the door to the bedchambers as they stumbled into the foyer outside it.

"Is he alright?" she asked upon seeing Loki slumped against Thor's big shoulder.  Her face showed genuine concern, through eyes red and swollen from crying.  Thor lowered his head respectfully, still able to abide by custom even though thoroughly soused.

"He's fine, My Lady.  A bit too much mead and melancholy, I'm afraid."

She stared at them for a moment and Thor could tell she was toying with the idea of having him drop the king there in the foyer and leave him.  But she finally shrugged and pushed the door wide, indicating they should enter.

"I'll put him to bed for you, My Lady," he said, helping Loki across the room.  "You needn't worry with anything."

Lyra nodded, staying well away from the two men.  She knew it would take precious little on her part for Loki to decide an impropriety had been committed, especially where Thor was concerned.  "Thank you," she mumbled quietly, moving onto the balcony to look out over the courtyard as Thor helped her husband off with his boots and dumped him onto the bed.  She noticed a couple below, at the edge of the gardens, an obviously clandestine meeting that had the both of them peering anxiously around in the dark before falling into one another's arms in a passionate embrace.

 _What must that be like,_ she wondered longingly.  She'd never experienced such a thing, the warm excitement of blossoming love.  If she took a lover, would that be her and her chosen one, sneaking off to tryst in the dark of the gardens at night?

She glanced back over her shoulder at Thor.  He caught her eye and smiled at her, a brief, almost shy grin that seemed more boy than man.

But there was nothing in that grin that called out to her, nothing that pulled her to him the way Loki's broken soul did.  Despite his harshness, his cruelty, his unfair treatment of her, there was something inside him that spoke to her on a level she couldn't understand.  

Thor staggered to the door, turning to bow to her as he bid her goodnight.  She watched him go, turning back to the balcony railing once he'd gone.  The lovers had vanished, slipped off into the darkness to carry on their love affair away from unseen eyes.

Lyra sighed, then slipped off her robe and climbed into bed beside her husband, not shying away from him when he pulled her into a drunken embrace and began kissing her roughly.

_This is the shape blossoming love takes for me._

And as Loki's hands began sliding over her body, she knew it was true.

 

 

 _To be continued..._  

 


	9. Feral

 

 

Winter trudged on, lingering far longer than Lyra was comfortable with.  The cold made her ache, and she fell sick twice before Loki finally allowed her to sleep in front of the fireplace at night.  He joined her there from time to time, but the heat of the fire was too much for his cold Jotun blood, so he summoned her to the bed when he wanted her, warming her body with simple tricks until her own temperature rose with the exertion of their activities.

With great annoyance, he began noticing a certain despair in himself when she slept outside the bed.  He'd grown accustomed to her presence in the sheets beside him, even if he ignored it when it didn't suit his mood.  If he awoke and found the place beside him empty, a quick and sudden anger often made him call out to her to return to the bed.  And Lyra did so, dragging her big heavy blanket with her, pouting at being made to leave the warmth of the hearth.

 

As the season's snows and chilly winds increased in intensity, so did the king's restlessness.  The cold suited him, awakening a primal desire deep inside him, and he found himself drawn to the woods more and more frequently, shifting into his wolf form to run in the hills until his legs were too exhausted to go further.  When affairs of state and kingly duties didn't require his presence, he took to the forests, sometimes for days and nights on end, returning when his animalistic needs were satisfied and his urge to run, to be away from other people and alone in the wild, was tempered.  Often he appeared at the bedchamber door in the deep of night, still covered in blood from a kill he'd devoured, his bloodlust sated but his carnal lust raging...and always, despite his fearsome appearance, Lyra took him in with open arms and willing spirit.

But despite the ferocity of their lovemaking, her body still stubbornly refused to conceive, and though it didn't seem to matter to Loki, the queen found her heart beginning to twist with the grief of failing in her duty to her king.

 

Loki returned just after nightfall from a day running in the hills to find his bed empty.  His wife's personal antechamber was likewise deserted.  This was unlike Lyra...she was always either in their bed or asleep on the hearth when he came home, but there was no sign of her having been here for quite some time.  Her handmaiden was likewise not where he could find her, so he washed up and made his way through the long corridors to the kitchens.  The servants all stood at attention and lowered their heads when he entered.

He felt his face go hot with embarrassment when he quietly asked, "Has anyone seen the queen?"

A few heads shook, faces looking worriedly at each other, a few shrugs.  Someone near the ovens at the far end of the cavernous kitchen yelled, "Pardon, Sire?"

Loki took a deep breath and stood straight and tall, lest anyone think him a worried husband of a wandering wife, but before he could repeat his question a scullery maid did it for him.  "He's looking for the queen!" she yelled, making him wince.  A few amused glances were stolen and he heard a quiet snicker from somewhere near the cutting tables.  But he couldn't be bothered with servants - he wanted his wife, and he wanted her badly.  His amorous feelings were quickly threatening to turn to something darker if he didn't get a quick answer as to her whereabouts.

"She's gone to the mead hall, Sire," an elderly man volunteered;  he was immediately slapped on the shoulder by the old woman standing next to him, a harsh shushing sound coming from her angrily pursed lips.

"Which mead hall?"

The old man glanced apprehensively at his wife, but he had already said too much and he knew the king would make him tell the rest, one way or another.  The ire of his wife was far preferable to the ire of the king.

"The south wing, Sire.  The one we use."

Loki was confused - why would Lyra go to the servants' facilities?

"Did she go alone?"

Several servants exchanged nervous glances and Loki immediately knew they were all privy to a secret withheld from him.  His anger flared and for a moment he considered having them all whipped for their insubordination - keeping information from the king was a highly punishable offense, he would be well within his rights to send the entire lot of them to the prisons for treason.  But it would be a laughable waste of his authority, lending credence to the whispered gossip he was sure would result from this situation.  He suddenly regretted even coming to the kitchens.

He looked around, but no one would meet eyes with him.

"I would have you all locked up, but then there would be no one to cook my dinner.  So I'll ask of you again - did the queen go alone?"

Silence, until finally a young girl to his left spoke.

"No, Sire."

He turned to her.  "Alright, who was with her?"

Silence again.

_"Who was with her?"_

The girl jumped, startled by the harsh volume of his voice echoing through the deathly silent kitchen.  She looked worriedly at the servant nearest her, but they didn't return her glance.  She finally dragged her eyes back to Loki, fear and apprehension and perhaps a bit of guilt showing in her face.

"Thor, Sire."

 

He opened the door and stepped inside, unnoticed in his cape and hood, borrowed from a coat hook outside the mead hall.  The room was warm, almost uncomfortably so for him;  there was a huge roaring fire in the gigantic hearth, radiating heat into the cavernous room, but he felt perhaps more heat was coming from the dancing bodies than from the flames.  He stood back against the wall to avoid being bumped by the crowd of revelers, most of the off-duty staff with a healthy mix of villagers and peasants by the looks of them.  Everyone was smiling, laughing, either in various states of inebriation or just having a good time.  He watched curiously, his keen eyes surveying the crowd in search of the familiar face of his wife.

He spotted Thor, near the raised stage where a band of minstrels was playing a rowdy dancing tune.  He was holding a small child, a girl, in his arms, dancing gleefully with her, spinning her around as she giggled and held onto his long braids like a horse's reins.  Loki looked more closely, not sure he was seeing clearly through the slightly hazy atmosphere of the room, but there it was - on the child's head was the queen's crown.

_So she is here._

He scanned the crowd again but couldn't find her.  He listened for her voice amongst the noise of the music and laughter and loud talking, but nothing familiar fell upon his ears.  Frustrated, he turned his attention to the musicians, his eyes coming to a woman in a tattered dress with her back to the crowd, standing next to the stage rather than on it, playing a hardingfele;  the bow in her delicate hand danced gracefully across the strings, dominating the tune.  It was pleasing to listen to, even though Loki was used to the more refined elegance of the palace musicians and their orchestral arrangements.  His brother certainly seemed to be enjoying it, a wide smile gracing his face as he danced with a happy abandon.

When the tune ended, the dancers and merrymakers applauded loudly, and the woman handed her instrument up to one of the other musicians on the stage.  Thor approached her with the little girl and the woman turned, smiling broadly, to take her from his arms.

Lyra.

_What?_

Loki watched from his place at the wall as the queen spun the child, laughing happily, then set her down on her feet and took the tankard from Thor's hand to drink from it.  A little wine spilled onto the bodice of her well worn dress, and he watched carefully to see if Thor would clean it for her.  But he only pulled a kerchief from his pocket and handed it to her, never touching her.  The music started again and the three of them danced in a circle, Lyra and Thor and the child, their faces alight with a simple happiness that Loki had only ever seen on the very old, the very married, or the very in love. 

He moved quietly to the door, having seen enough.  He cast one quick glance back at his wife and brother, then pulled his hood around his face and silently slipped into the night.

 

Lyra moved about the room quietly, trying not to disturb Loki's studies.  His duties as king took so much of his time now that he had precious little opportunity to pursue his other interests, and when that opportunity presented itself, he did not like to be interrupted.  He had stopped disappearing so often, choosing instead to spend his spare time in the bedchamber reading, practicing his magical skills, honing and fine tuning his craft.  He was sitting near the balcony with three large books open in his lap, a fourth spread across the table in front of him.

"What are you doing, Lyra?"

His voice startled her and a shiver of dread rippled down her spine.  Had she disturbed him?  Best to answer quickly and truthfully rather than risk stroking his ire;  his eyes missed nothing, so covering the truth with a hastily fashioned misdirection was, she knew, immensely unwise.

"I'm straightening the room, Sire."

The look of confusion that masked his face was almost childlike in its lack of comprehension.

"Why?"

"Because it is messy, Sire.  We've thrown our things all over the floor, I'm merely picking them up."

He gave her a dismissive wave with his hand as he turned back to his books.  "Leave it.  We have servants to do that."

Lyra waited until his full attention was off her before she resumed her activities, retrieving a pair of muddy boots from the floor at the foot of the bed where he'd unceremoniously dropped them the night before. When she closed the armoire doors after putting them inside it, she found Loki's eyes on her again, his look decidedly disapproving.

"I said leave it, Lyra.  It's not your job."

She met his stare and straightened her back, refusing to let him order her around so callously over such a small matter.

"Why does it draw your concern for me to do this?  Who sees me but you?  Who does it hurt?"

"If a servant sees you - "

"They'll what?  Be surprised to see the queen partaking of a menial task?  Realize I'm not as snobbish and privileged as the rest of the gentry?  Remember that I came from their own ranks to a title I only earned through merit of who my ancestors were?"  She heard her voice rising but didn't care to lower it.  She threw her arms in the air in an exaggerated gesture of panic.  "The kingdom might fall!"

Loki stared at her, his eyes unreadable.  "Oh yes, I'd forgotten your sense of camaraderie with the serving staff."

"They're more entertaining than you are!"

She realized after she'd spoken that her tone was angry and intensely disrespectful.  There was no way Loki would let this go unpunished.  But she meant to stand by her argument regardless of the probability that he would make her regret it.

"You defy me."

She sucked in her breath, blinking hard to gather her courage.

"Yes."

A long pause, filled with an oppressive silence that felt heavy and poisonous.  It seemed forever before the king finally sat back, moving the heavy books from his lap to the table, standing slowly with his eyes burning into Lyra's face.

"Lie across the bed."

The first impulse that rushed her consciousness was to plead for his forgiveness, but the other part of her thoughts, the part that dealt in realities, knew it was too late for that.  She had transgressed and Loki was angry.  There would be no getting out of this with apologies and feigned submissiveness.  She raised her chin and held his eye contact, neither of them moving for a long moment.  Then she silently moved to the bed and obeyed, sitting on the edge and looking at him again to wait for further instruction.

Loki's face was more dangerous than she'd ever seen it, but his voice was unnervingly controlled and steady.

"On your stomach.  Face down.   _Now."_

She quickly did as she was told, turning over to stretch out across the bed.  A rising tightness in her gut was threatening to set her body to trembling - she couldn't tell if it was a dreadful fear of the punishment that was coming or excitement for what she assumed was going to be rough treatment at Loki's hands.  A quick flush of shame came to her cheeks when she realized it was most likely the latter.

There was a moment of tense silence as she listened, face down with her eyes closed, and heard Loki approach the bed.  But her attention was quickly distracted to a new sensation, like a soft whisper of cool breeze across her wrists where they lay above her head, followed by a silken tightness that cut into her flesh.

He'd bound her.

The same sensation fell across her ankles and she groaned into the sheets, the chill edge of fear dipping dangerously into a dark, disturbing arousal as the constraints forced her limbs apart, spreading her.  _Finally, he shows me his magic,_  she thought deliriously.  The clone of himself was the only true mystical conjuration she'd seen from him, and it had awoken a fascination in her for what else he might be capable of.  Simple restraints weren't much by way of an impressive show, but it was effective, and she pulled against them only to find her suspicions were confirmed - they were very  _very_  real.

"Do you know what happens to disobedient little queens who defy their king?"  His voice was shockingly close to her ear, even though she hadn't felt him climb onto the bed.  She tried to turn her head toward the voice, but her arms had been pulled so far to the sides and bound so tightly that she could do no more than nod slightly.

"Yes, Sire."  Her voice was small and trembled with fear and arousal.  She wondered, hazily, if it was obvious to Loki which was the more intense of the two emotions.

But there was no time to figure it out, because his hands were suddenly on her back, up near her neck, his strong fingers sliding under her hair to grip the back of her gown.  There was a harsh yank and the sound of fabric tearing, pulling against her body as he ripped it open, laying her back bare.

"They get the defiance beaten out of them," he whispered, his voice heavy with both anger and seduction.  "And it doesn't stop until they cry real tears."

 

 

_To be continued..._


	10. Bound

 

 

She opened her eyes and saw Loki sitting next to her head, on the edge of the bed;  his hands were stroking her, calming her, one holding her hair out of the way while the other caressed gently up and down her arm as another stroke landed across her back.  A cry ripped from her throat and she groaned in pain, pushing her face into the sheets.  He'd made a duplicate of himself to comfort her while he punished her.

 _Which is soothing me and which is hurting me?_   she wondered, though her thoughts were growing hazy and another blow drew a gasping cry from her.  The Loki at her head whispered  _Shhhhhh_  as he gently rubbed her neck, his strong fingers deftly relaxing her so that when the next stroke hit her, she wasn't tensed - it hurt far worse, and she suddenly knew that this soother, this supposed gift of comfort, was just an additional part of the punishment.  She'd taken the first two strokes without his assistance and the two since his arrival had been more painful...he was distracting her, keeping her from being able to steel herself against the impact.  She muttered a curse under her breath and felt another strike of the lash, across her bare bottom this time, causing her entire body to tense and twist against the restraints.

"Defiance...so unbecoming of a lady," the Loki behind her said roughly, teasing the backs of her knees with the lash.  "And even more so coming from a  _queen."_   He trailed the leather strap up the back of her thigh to rub it against her bare underside, drawing a shuddering gasp from deep within her.  

_Oh please no..._

He stroked her with the strap until she began to tremble, her body's responses betraying her.  She fought it, not wanting him to know how aroused she was from the beating, but he climbed up on the bed behind her to straddle her legs, leaving the strap between them.  She heard the sound of him opening his pants, then his hands gripped her hips as he positioned himself at her opening and pushed in roughly.

The Loki at her head whispered softly in her ear... _Relax, my sweet...we're not finished with you yet._

He fucked her hard and fast, pounding against her backside so roughly that the restraints were all that kept her in place.  Her wrists and ankles began to sting as the bindings rubbed harshly into her skin and she tried to bury her face in the sheets, to pull the silken fabric into her mouth to give herself something to gnaw on, some way to relieve the pressure on her nervous system - but the other Loki saw what she was doing and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head up to force her to look at him.

"Be careful, little queen," he said in a silky voice full of dark menace.  "If you're to have anything in that sweet little mouth, it won't be the sheets."

The Loki behind her laughed, slapping her bottom to chastise her.  A few quick, brutal strokes later, he pulled out of her and finished himself across her back.  It was clear to her now which was which - she felt the heated liquid as it spurted onto her skin, it was wet and sticky as it slowly began to trickle down her ribcage - definitely no illusion.  This had to be the real Loki...the duplicate wasn't true flesh and blood, was it?  His semen burned on the raw lash marks and she twisted against her restraints again, groaning in discomfort, trying to get away from the sting but unable to stop it. A deep, gutteral groan from behind her signaled the end of the onslaught and she finally relaxed, finding a perverse sort of pleasure in the burning of her raw flesh.

But she was aching far deeper than the marks on her skin.  Twisting against her restraints, she groaned miserably and felt a shiver ripple down her spine when it was met with a dark chuckle from behind her.

"No, little one.  It's not over yet.  I know you're in torment for release..."  There was a quick tap against her swollen underside with the strap.  "...but you haven't given me your tears yet."

The strap moved from between her legs and Lyra tensed, knowing it would hit her soon.  She busied her addled mind trying to guess where it would land - across the small of her back, her shoulders, her ribs?  Or would he aim lower, land the stinging blow across her bottom or the backs of her thighs?

 _"Please,"_   she whispered, barely audible, even to her own ears.  She'd heard Loki moving slowly around the end of the bed, but he stopped and the air was suddenly still.

"What was that?"

She chewed her lip, tasting blood. _"Please..."_

Loki's smile was almost audible in the tense silence of the chamber.

"Please what, my sweet?"  She didn't answer;  she couldn't.  Her body was so tense she felt as if her muscles would snap if she drew enough breath to speak again.

"I think she wants us to stop," the Loki at her head said, a malicious humor tinging his voice. _He thinks they've broken me._  Lyra shook her head as much as she was able, vehemently disagreeing with him.

_"No...!"_

"No?"

"No...please... _don't stop."_

Both Lokis laughed quietly, a sinister sound that surrounded her.  One of them, she wasn't sure which, patted her head like an obedient pet.

"She has heart, this one...and a spirit of steel.  Shall we let her survive us?"

The other laughed again, but it was a softer sound this time, less cruel but no less chilling.  

_"Let her try."_

 

"Where would you like your final blow, my darling?"

The word _final_ made her groan unhappily.  The more he hurt her, the more she wanted him to continue.  

_What is wrong with me?_

She didn't even have to think about her answer - mustering as much strength as she could from her sore, traumatized muscles, she arched her back, barely able to move because of the tightness of her restraints.  But she could tilt her hips back, raising them just slightly off the bed, just enough to provide the answer Loki sought.

"Your sweet little ass is quite red already, my sweet," he purred, dragging the strap over her cheeks, grinning madly when she moaned.  "But that's not what you're wanting, is it, little one?"

Lyra shook her head, pushing her bottom higher, exposing as much of herself to him as she could.  Her legs were already spread wide by the restraints, but she struggled to open herself wider.

"Yes," Loki praised, letting the strap dangle between her legs.  "Good girl, presenting yourself to me.  You'll be rewarded for your beautiful submission."  He withdrew the strap and she sucked in her breath, waiting for it to strike, holding her position until her legs began to tremble.

Loki took mercy and gave her what she longed for.

The strap hit her with a stinging slap, making agonizing contact with her vulva, the burning sting spread evenly from her clit and tender, swollen folds all the way to her rear opening, made all the worse by the slick wetness that coated her skin.  Lyra screamed, but it was a strange sound, caught somewhere between unbearable pain and even more unbearable pleasure...panting gasps took its place quickly and her entire body tensed as she climaxed in a violent rush of heated release that left her shaking and straining hard against her restraints, a long, low, agonized groan finding its way desperately from her lips.

Loki saw her trembling and recognized the obvious signs of the orgasm ripping its way through her body.  Reclining between her spread legs, he gently licked her, lapping up the warm juices that gushed from her, pushing his tongue far into her folds to feel the last of the soft shuddering clenches of her inner muscles as they spasmed to relieve the tension.  And when her body had finally stilled, he waved away his double as if he were clearing smoke from the air and took its place at her head, smoothing her hair back from her eyes and kissing her forehead tenderly.

"There," he whispered sweetly, praising her as he kissed away the damp from her eyelashes.  "There are those tears we were looking for.  Good girl...I'm proud of you."

Lyra whimpered pitifully as the sting between her legs forced its way back into her consciousness, the pain-easing hormones that were released by her orgasm quickly dissipating and allowing the burn to reawaken. Her tears fell more copiously as her lips began to tremble and Loki immediately released her bindings, waving them away with a flick of his wrist, drawing her up into his arms to hold her against him.

"Shhhh, little one," he comforted her, rocking her gently.  "I will heal you...your suffering will be over in a moment."  As she lay against him like a child being cuddled after skinning its knee, Loki moved one hand slowly over her back, pressing lightly into each of her marks for a few seconds as his glowing fingertips released the healing seidr into her body.  The pain left each injury quickly and she finally relaxed into his chest, the discomfort eased enough to relieve the taut tension of her muscles.

"Thank you, Sire," she murmured against his neck, so quietly that he nearly mistook her words for a soft exhalation of breath.  He pressed his fingers between her legs and soothed the last of her bruised flesh before laying her on the pillows, letting her curl into a little ball as he covered her with the sheets and moved off the bed to undress himself.  Slipping quickly out of his clothes, he climbed into the bed beside her and smiled when Lyra scooted up close, snuggling into his side. 

The memory of her happy smile as she danced with Thor, the look of contentment on her face that his brother had seen but he himself had only observed from a distance, haunted him.  Instead of angering him, it awakened a longing in him.  He wanted the things she'd shared with Thor.  The enjoyment of a night of innocent play, the friendship of two people having a drink together, laughing at amusing things, dancing to music that awakened a lightheartedness of the spirit.  He couldn't hate Thor for having received those things from Lyra.  And he couldn't despise Lyra for giving them to him.

He'd punished her enough.  Perhaps too much...he knew in his heart she hadn't deserved this, he wasn't even completely sure why he'd been so overcome with the need to make her cry.  Her defiance stroked his rage, certainly, but each time she stood up to him he felt his respect for her grow.  Why did earning his respect merit brutal punishment?  He wasn't even angry about catching her with his brother...something inside him knew she wasn't seeking solace or love in Thor's arms.

Then _what?_

"Is it too much to ask of you to love me, Lyra?"

She stirred, settling closer under his arm.  "At the moment?  No, not too much, Sire.  At other times - far too daunting a task."

He couldn't avoid the smile that leapt to his lips.  Lyra's honesty always excited him, even when the truth didn't suit his ego.

"Stay with me," she pleaded, turning her face up to gently kiss the corner of his lips, his closed eyelids.  "Please...please stay, Loki."

He lifted his head and looked at her, eyes wanting to see her sincerity, reading her face for any sign of duplicity.  He saw none.  And she had called him by his name.

_"Loki...my Loki..."_

He laid his head next to hers, his body relaxing against her as her arms came up to encircle his neck, her fingers stroking through his hair soothingly as she whispered to him, calming him.

_"Loki...my king..."_

 

 

_To be continued..._


	11. Vigilante

 

 

 

The wolf waited in the shadows, teeth bared, hackles raised.  The ice and snow beneath his paws should have been numbing his pads, but his tolerance for the cold followed him no matter what shape he took, making him the perfect predator.  He could chase prey until they froze, till they could run no more on icy feet, and the deadly chill of night posed no threat to him.

He sniffed the air;  there was a female nearby, but he couldn't be distracted by her.  He shook his head to clear his mind.  The female's pheromones were making him dizzy, she was in heat and it was pulling at him.  Was she seeking him?  He should snap her neck with his strong jaws and be done with it - there were far more important things to be dealt with this night, he didn't need interference.

Down below, beneath a steep hill that sloped into a small bridge crossing a creek, a man was hiding.

A man Loki sought.

_Escape my prison, kill my men...suffer the wrath of the king._

 

There were stories of a giant wolf who ate men whole, lurking in these woods like a specter of death over the outlands.

_The stories were true._

Loki slipped quietly down the hillside on silent feet, body crouched low, nose to the snowy ground as he made his way to the bridge.

 

Jaws strong as steel snapped around the man's neck, teeth piercing his throat before he had a chance to scream.  Loki shook his head hard and heard the satisfying snap of bone, and the man stopped struggling, body going limp.  Dragging him to the creek's edge, he pushed with his muzzle until the body rolled down the embankment and splashed quietly into the water.  In moments it was gone, carried downstream by the strong current.

Loki licked his lips while he watched.

_One less villain._

 

Lyra sat up in the bed, awakened by the bedchamber door falling shut.  Loki was standing there in the dark;  she could hear his breathing, heavy and labored, as if he'd been running in the cold.  Wrapping a blanket around her naked body, she left the bed and went to him, stepping into the shadows to press herself against him.

He felt cold, wet, sticky.  She knew the stickiness was the blood of some creature he'd stalked and captured, but she was used to this and it no longer repulsed her - the king often returned home in this state, in the middle of the night or at dawn's first light, slicked with the blood of his prey.  She never asked him what it had been.

His mouth came down on hers and she tasted the salty, coppery tang of it on his lips.

"Sire, would you like me to bathe you?"

His answer came in the form of a hard push that put her on the floor at his feet.  She looked up into his face and saw that the ferality wasn't gone from him yet.  The form of the wolf had given way to the man but the nature still lingered, and the hungry look in his face as he glared down at her sent a shiver up her spine.  But she didn't fear him.

Reaching up, she rested her hands on his thighs, waiting for his approval before she went further.  He was breathing hard, his chest heaving, splashed with black in the moonlight;  Lyra knew those black splotches would be red in the morning sun, but for now she was grateful for the blackness the moon afforded the evidence of his nocturnal activities.  The moon hid many things, a kindness it awarded its creatures.  Loki was one of them, a chosen child of the night.  The moon would shield his sins.

The black hollows of his eyes told her nothing, but the shallow nod of his head, the gutteral grunt that tightened the muscles across his belly, gave her the approval she sought.  Rising to her knees, she let the blanket fall from her shoulders, baring her nakedness to him as her hands worked the lacing of his dirty breeches.  She had them open in a matter of moments and swiftly reached in to pull him out, his cock straining against her tight grip as she tipped it downward to her mouth.

His hands came to her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, pulling hard, viciously...but Lyra kept silent, taking him into her mouth and sucking at him, not resisting when he forced her head forward.  He was too much for her to take in, far too large for her delicate mouth, but she tipped her head back to afford him a straighter passage from her mouth to the back of her throat.  It was an instinctive reaction and it worked, keeping Lyra from gagging as the feral king began thrusting himself into her.  He hadn't spoken yet and she wondered if he was even able - he seemed barely transformed - had he entered the palace as a wolf and only taken his god form back as he entered the chambers?  Could he even think as a man yet?  She hadn't truly seen his eyes, cloaked in darkness as they were.  She didn't know if there was recognition in them, familiarity and longing, or if they held the remaining vestiges of the animal he'd been.  It sent a shiver through her, this possibility that she was kneeling before the form of a man with the mind of a predator.  How easily he could kill her if he lost control for only a moment...

Struggling against his strong grip on her head, she pulled him out of her mouth and spoke his name quickly, knowing he would shove himself back in before she had the chance to say much more.  His fingers tightened in her hair, drawing a gasp of pain from her.  

 _"Loki...Loki..."_  Her hands went around him, to the backs of his thighs, tugging his pants down so that she could slide her palms up over his bare buttocks, grasping him hard.  "My king, is it you...?"

His hips stopped thrusting, his hands loosening their grip on her hair as he looked down at her.  His face was still shrouded in darkness, but Lyra sensed a returning of awareness in him, something in the way his body posture changed just the slightest bit, his muscles losing some of the taut, quivering tension that rendered them solid and unyielding to her hands.  One hand came down to her face to stroke her cheek while the other moved to the top of her head, rubbing her gently, as if she were a skittish kitten.

 _"Shhhh,"_ he whispered, nudging his cock back into her mouth gently, urging her lips apart with the swollen head.  She was still looking up at him when the clouds shifted, clearing momentarily to allow the full glow of the moon's light to fall on his face.  She saw Loki there, a grim set to his jaw, something reminiscent of a tiny smile barely visible upon his lips; but his eyes made her gasp and it took all her strength of will not to pull away from him in shock.  

His eyes were not Loki, at least not the Loki she knew.  The sparkling green was gone, replaced with the fiery gold of the wolf.  But there was recognition in them, and as the clouds reclaimed their place across the moon's face to send him back into shadow, Lyra closed her own eyes and, steeling her resolve, resumed her duty of pleasuring the king, knowing his mind was present enough to protect her from his darker side.

Though in all honestly, she wasn't sure which of his sides was truly the darker.

 

"Do you mate with other wolves when you're in the woods?"

Loki stretched out in the bath, letting Lyra wash the bloodstains from his shoulders with a coarse cloth.  He winced a bit as she scrubbed hard at his skin.  "No.  There was a bitch tonight, in heat, following me...it was sorely tempting, but I ignored her."

"Why?"  Her eyes were on her task, but he knew she was avoiding meeting his own because they had frightened her.  He had returned to her too soon, it had been a risk and he silently chastised himself for it. Coming back before he was completely... _himself_...was stupid.  But he'd wanted her so badly, the arousal awakened in him by the she-wolf had been almost too much to bear.  He reached up with one hand and stroked her cheek lazily with the back of a finger.

"You didn't sleep with my brother.  I didn't mate with the bitch.  We'll call it even."

Her eyes finally met his and there was a look of surprise there.  "Why would you think I would sleep with Thor?" she asked, confusion raising the pitch of her voice.  It was a sincere reaction, one that told Loki her shock at the insinuation was genuine.  No guilt, no guile.  He let his finger stray to her lips, the tip nudging between them, careful to handle her bruised mouth gently.  

"I don't."

It was all he intended to say on the matter, and she didn't press for more.  Transforming back and forth from wolf to man was a physically draining task and he felt tired, sore, worn out to his bones from the strain of it.  The mental stress was substantial as well and his head hurt, his thoughts still not completely clear.  He was fully reverted now, the animal purged, and the man was ready to sleep it off.

He stood and allowed his wife to dry the bath from his body, closing his eyes as she rubbed him gently with the soft towel, warmed by the heated stones around the tub.  It was soothing and he found himself gazing down at her as she dried him.

"You're a good wife to me, Lyra," he said quietly as she hummed a little tune, her voice soft and low to calm and relax him.  It was working, and he felt his lids grow heavy with exhaustion.  He'd wanted to have her again, to bury himself deep inside her and maybe go to sleep that way, resting in the soothing comfort of her soft body, but the release she'd given him with her sweet little mouth would have to be enough for now.  He needed rest.

Lyra pressed a gentle kiss to Loki's hip, just below the curve where the strong muscles of his stomach cut into a sharply defined line to his groin. His nature changed so quickly, she knew it would be childishly optimistic of her to assume he would remain in this mode for long, saying kind things to her, stroking her hair.  She knew he could, and likely would, change again just as quickly to the cruel, cold bastard that she'd grown accustomed to.  But she would enjoy this for as long as it remained, and when it changed and his rough other self emerged, she would find a way to enjoy that as well.  It was becoming something of a skill of hers, appreciating all of her husband's many moods.

But even prepared as she was for the inevitable, nothing could have readied her for the reality the morning brought with it.

 

Loki was gone when she awoke.  With reluctance, Lyra moved the sheets back, expecting to find blood...it was time for her cycles and she'd been feeling tired, nervous, achy.  But the sheets were clean.

Her chambermaid came in, bowing politely, waiting for permission to strip the bed;  she eyed Lyra suspiciously when she noticed there were no stains, but she didn't say anything.  Lyra hated this part of her life as the king's wife and royal producer of heirs - her reproductive life, or lack thereof, was the business of everyone from the chambermaids to the Queen Mother, and the state of the royal sheets, she knew, was the subject of much gossip and speculation among the palace staff.

There would definitely be whispers this day.

 

Dismissing her handmaid to dress by herself, Lyra ate alone and made her way to the amphitheater to watch the early morning sparring matches. As she had suspected, Loki was there, in the ring with four soldiers armed with swords and pikes and protected by heavy armor and shields.  Loki stood in the center of them, alone, unarmed, in just his shirtsleeves.  

 _Those poor boys_  Lyra thought, shaking her head as she made herself comfortable in the stands.  She knew Loki not only would have his magic at his bidding, but undoubtedly a ridiculous number of blades hidden on his person as well.  No one even came close to matching his skills with a throwing blade.  Coupled with the unfair advantage his magic afforded him, it was obvious who was going to win this round.

The horn was blown, and Loki vanished, quickly reappearing outside the circle of soldiers.  He immediately took them down one at a time in a blinding flash of emerald fire and silver steel, and within seconds all four lay in the dirt, either unconscious or close to it.  He stalked slowly around them, issuing the occasional kick to make sure they were truly out.  The look on his face was a carefully controlled rage, a look Lyra was uncomfortably familiar with...he glanced into the stands and met her eyes, but there was no smile for her.

He'd switched again.

A chill settled in her gut.

_Not now, Loki...please..._

 

 

_To be continued..._


	12. Lash

 

 

Lyra didn't see Loki again for days.  He slept apart from her, sending a servant to retrieve his books and clothing as he required them.  His days were spent locked away in negotiations with nobles and politicians from other kingdoms, working out the details of truces, trade treaties, whatever needed his attention, while Lyra slept alone in their chambers and spent her own days reading or walking in the gardens.  Thor was not available for companionship, as the king required his presence at his side in his advisory position...and so the queen was completely, irrefutably, alone.

She wondered if it wasn't for the best.  She'd seen Loki's mood shift, she'd watched as the darkness fell back over him again.  He would only hurt her if he didn't leave, and so leave he had.  Perhaps he'd done it to protect her from himself...?

 _Yes, it's for the bes_ t she decided, rubbing her stomach as she lay in the big empty bed, taken ill by a sudden rush of lightheadedness and a peculiar queasiness that filled her with both dread and excitement.  Her cycles still had not come and she was finding it more and more difficult to get out of bed in the mornings without being sick.  It was still far too early to be certain, but her instinct told her her time had finally come.

She would bear Loki's heir.

 

Several days after the king stopped sleeping with her, Lyra found herself in a mood of her own, angry at the man who treated her with such random disdain after having overwhelmed her with such passion.  He'd awakened in her a need, a deep and disturbing desire for his dark nature, a vicious wanting that refused to be quelled by anything other than his attention.  And now he'd removed that attention, leaving her with the need but not the means with which to deal with it.

 _How dare he._  He'd taken her innocence and taught her how to accept him and his dark carnality.  He'd tutored her forcibly in the nature of the beast - the darkness of her own soul, the part of her that called out to be stroked, to be whipped, to be punished and then rewarded with equal intensity.  Through his brutality she'd been introduced to a part of herself that she had never known existed, a part that crept in shadow and quivered at the threat of pain mixed with pleasure, the delicious pairing of bitter and sweet, the moans of ecstasy and the cries of agony mingling together in a beautiful song of dark passion.

There was something in her now, something that longed for these things.  Something Loki had put there.

Or had it been there all along, sleeping, only daring to awaken once he'd taken her by the hand and led her to its lair, rattling its cage to wake it up, poking it gleefully with a sharp stick until it lunged, roaring, into furious wakefulness?

Whatever it was, he'd taken it away just as quickly as he'd awarded it.

 _Another thing that's probably for the best,_ she thought miserably, running a hand across her lower stomach.  Loki's child was in there, sleeping, growing, hiding until it was time to make its presence known.  Her belly hadn't grown any yet, but there was a very slight swelling that she could feel, a certain strange sensation of solidness.  She couldn't be allowing Loki to handle her roughly now, no matter how badly she might want it. The baby's safety was the most important thing.

And Loki was not a safe element to have in this equation.

 

An afternoon in the king's library did nothing to soothe Lyra's discomfort or clear her mind;  she felt sick and irritable and mildly vindictive, wishing childishly that there was something she could do, something petty and meaningless, that would make her feel better.  She considered removing his bookmarks from the many ancient volumes that lay scattered about his study table, perhaps removing pertinent pages from various manuscripts...but he would know it was her, as no one else had access to this library except herself and him.

Entering Loki's private study area, she looked around cautiously, careful not to move anything lest he realize she'd been there.  He didn't mind her borrowing books from his library, but this section, a small chamber off the main room, was his alone.  It felt dangerous, being inside his little sanctum without his permission.  She didn't dare do anything in here to satisfy her irritation...but she _was_ curious.

_He's not here.  He won't know._

Sitting in his high-backed leather chair, Lyra gave a cursory glance to the open texts Loki had been studying most recently.  She knew nothing of his magic, his _Seidr,_ and these books were obviously ancient manuscripts concerning the powers he held.  She had no interest in it other than in watching him wield it.

Bored and somewhat emboldened with the knowledge that he wouldn't be catching her in her snooping, she pulled open one of his desk drawers.  In it were papers, scrolls, paintings that had obviously been infused with spells to make them animated.  She pulled one out and looked at it, her heart instantly dropping.

Loki and a beautiful woman with golden hair, two black haired boys playing at their feet.  They were obviously happy, smiling, the boys laughing as they tumbled with a small furry pet.  She recognized them, the twins who had tormented her.  This wasn't how she remembered them, with these smiles, this lighthearted happiness.

But what caught her eye and refused to let it go was the way Loki was looking at the woman.   _Sigyn._  Her predecessor, the woman Lyra competed with every day for her husband's affections.  The ghost Loki couldn't stop letting himself be haunted by.

_You're the reason he's not here.  You're the reason I can't even tell him I've got his child in me._

She sighed, tucking the painting back into the drawer the way she'd found it, careful to put everything back exactly the way it had been.  It wouldn't do for him to know she'd been here, looking through his private things.  Especially now.

 

It had been nearly two weeks since he'd disappeared from their bedchambers and, essentially, from her life.  There was no denying now that she was carrying his child.

It was time to tell him.  If he wouldn't come to her for the news, she would take it to him.

 

Lyra entered the throne room, noticing immediately the disarray and lack of decorum of the attending staff.  Loki was lounging on the throne, laying back, knees spread wide, head resting on one hand casually as he watched her approach.  It was obvious he was drunk, and that his two flanking advisors - military, from the looks of their armor - were as well.

Showing the proper protocol despite the lax surroundings, Lyra bowed her head and gave a low curtsy, acknowledging respect for the kingship, if not for the king.

Loki grinned, waving her up with one hand.  "You have something to tell me, my pet?"

Lyra's head snapped up in surprise as the two advisors broke into rude snickers.  She was showing him respect but he wasn't affording her the same courtesy - what had happened here?

"Yes, Sire...I have news, but as it is of a - _private_ \- nature, I would prefer to speak with you alone if possible."

Loki all but sneered at her.  "Tell me now.  If it concerns you, it concerns everyone here - never forget, you belong to the kingdom, my dear."  He sat back, his posture anything but kingly as he spread his knees wide and rested his head on one fist, elbow propped on the arm of the throne.  "You have your king's ear, my sweet."

Embarrassment burned Lyra's cheeks as she approached the throne, hoping to be allowed close enough so that her voice was heard only by Loki.  But the two advisors had moved closer and were listening intently, their faces bearing disrespectful smirks as they watched her.

"Sire, my cycles have...stopped...it seems."  She cast a sideways glance at the advisor closest to her and felt a chill when she saw his eyes sweeping appraisingly over her body.  She felt certain that Loki saw it as well, but he didn't seem interested in doing anything about it.

"Is that right?  Has my little queen finally fallen pregnant?"

"I'm not certain, Sire.  But it would seem so."

Loki's eyes surveyed her coldly.  This wasn't the reaction she had expected from him - far from it.  He finally sighed deeply, motioning to the man standing closest to her.  "Examine her."

"What?"  Lyra backed away as the man advanced on her, his leering face taking on a decidedly dangerous sneer that rivaled anything Loki had ever aimed at her.  "Sire, I beg you - "

"And you know how much I love to hear you beg, my darling little queen...but I'm afraid we have no time for pointless supplication, as I'm booked up for the day."  He nodded and the man grabbed her.

Pushing her to her hands and knees on the floor in front of the throne, the adviser held her by the back of her neck while he shoved her skirts up and pushed his fingers roughly into her.  Lyra cried out in pain and embarrassment as he probed her, one finger pushing harshly into her tightly closed cervix.  She turned her agonized face up to Loki, who sat watching the examination with a cold expression of disinterest.

"She is closed and hard, Sire.  She is with child."

Loki let a harsh little laugh fall from his lips, his head tipping back to cast his eyes to the heavens.  "Thank the Norns, it's about fucking time."  He waved the two advisors away and Lyra got back to her feet, her face hot with anger, her hands hastily pushing her skirts back down to cover herself.  She waited until everyone was out of earshot except the steward that always stood to the left of the throne, at the ready to do the king's bidding.  Lyra cast him a warning look when he met eyes with her, then took another step closer to the throne without asking permission.

"Could you not have allowed me to go to the physician's chambers instead of submitting me to this humiliation?" she demanded, her voice low and controlled but shaking with anger and indignation.  Loki stared at her, his cold indifference taking on an edge of danger so quickly that Lyra didn't have a chance to step back before he leaned forward and snarled into her face.

 _"You deserve whatever I give you_  - no more and no less."  He turned his attention to the steward, addressing him without looking at him.  "Take her to the stables and teach her the humility that comes from a lash across her back."

Backing away in panicked disbelief, Lyra shook her head and dropped to her knees.  "No Sire, please - "

The cold, derisive laugh that broke from Loki's lips was chilling in its emotionless finality.

"It's a bit late to get on your knees, little queen...perhaps if you'd done that at the start, your mouth would have been too full to get you into trouble."  He jerked his head toward the doors and stared her straight in the eyes as the steward grabbed her, pulling her away.

Lyra refused to beg any further;  Loki was too far gone into his inner darkness to care.

 

Frigga entered the throne room, smiling broadly as she bowed to her son on the throne, almost forgetting proper protocol in her excitement to receive confirmation of the news.  The servants had been gossiping, and word was spreading of a royal heir finally being conceived.  She stood and approached the throne, glancing around, confused that Lyra wasn't in the Hall.

"Loki, I thought your wife would be here with her news.  Have you been told?"

Nodding disinterestedly, the king continued chatting with his chancellor.

"So, she was here already?  Has she gone back to her chambers?"

Loki sighed, turning to look at his mother as if she were a tiresome supplicant come to ask for a cow.

"She was here, and I sent her off to the stables for a whipping.  She was unforgivably insubordinate."

Frigga gasped, hand flying to her mouth in shock.  "What?  Why?  What of the baby?"

Loki rolled his eyes, mocking his mother's histrionics.  "The child is nestled safely in her belly where a few lashes across her back won't harm it."

"Oh Loki, no!" she cried in horror, turning quickly - but the king stopped her with a stern voice that left no room for disobedience, even from the former queen.

"Mother!" he intoned harshly, voice booming through the cavernous Hall, stopping her where she stood.  "You have _not_ been granted permission to leave my presence."

Frigga stared at him, mortified.  This couldn't be her son, the sweet boy she had raised as her own, the beautiful child with the delicate feelings and deep, intense emotions, the loving father who had doted on his children, who had loved his family so deeply.  The man before her was cold, distant, uncaring.  He'd sent his pregnant wife to be beaten - no, _this couldn't be Loki._

Though everything in her screamed out for her to do something, anything, it was painfully obvious to Frigga that there was, in fact, nothing she could do.  So she simply nodded, bowing her head, letting one of the stewards take her by the arm and lead her to a chair near the wall to wait, though she didn't know what she was waiting for.

 

When the first steward returned with Lyra, Thor had entered and was speaking with one of the other advisors in a scolding voice, trying to bring some semblance of order back to the throne room.  He'd found it in a ridiculous state of disarray and confusion, his mother seated against the wall crying, unable to speak, and Loki seemed to be more interested in finishing another bottle of wine than he did in addressing the issues of the council.  He looked up and frowned at first when the doors flew open noisily, then his face fell to an expression of shock and horror when he saw the queen, half dragged and stumbling, dumped unceremoniously at the foot of the upper steps.  She fell, unmoving, arms curled around herself in a protective gesture that left her back exposed.  Thor immediately saw the torn dress, the lash marks across her pale skin, some welted and bleeding.

"Loki what have you done?!"

Glancing over at the crumpled heap in front of the throne, the king turned a sneering face to his brother.

"You foisted her upon me.   _You clean up the mess."_

 

 

_To be continued..._


	13. Truth

 

 

 

The rest of the winter saw Loki's mood hold steady at cruel tyrant;  his malicious treatment of his wife infuriated Thor, but short of murdering his brother, there was little he could do without risking execution for treason himself.  He tried to speak to Lyra many times, but she either ignored him or shot him uneasy looks that warned him not to be caught consorting with her.  Knowing she must know best, he left her alone, but the marks and bruises on her body caught his eye and stroked his rage.  Loki's sins couldn't continue being silently condoned.  Something had to be done. With the queen's pregnancy confirmed, it was all the more urgent that the abuse stop.

The rage and anger in Thor's face wasn't lost on Lyra...she tried to stay away from him, begging him silently not to do anything in her behalf, but it wasn't safe to speak to him without risking the king's jealousy. And so she watched him from a distance, noticing every murderous glare he shot at his brother, every clenched fist at having to obey an arbitrary order, every mournful, shamed glance he cast her way.  She knew he felt responsible for her and for what was happening, but she had no way to comfort him, to assure him that all would be well...Loki would change again eventually, and things would be right again.

But as Winter slowly began to warm into Spring and Lyra's belly began to grow, so did Thor's determination to kill the king.

 

Loki's dark moods had overtaken him completely, and no one was immune to his wrath - least of all Lyra.  She bore the brunt of it, trying to make herself as small as possible to avoid catching his attention, but failing miserably.  Having made the mistake of questioning his decision to cancel an important meeting with a council of noblemen who had traveled for days to arrive on time, she stood with her head down awaiting his fearsome anger. 

"Defy or question me again and I will have you beaten so brutally that you lose this child, and then you will be nothing," he threatened, his voice low and steady but loud enough to allow the court to hear, a hint of a cold smile on his face.  "You understand, don't you, that you are nothing without the King's blood in your belly?  If I take that from you, you are no more than a common scullery maid, despite your own royal blood." He waited for his cruel words to sink in, both to Lyra's ears and all those listening in the throne room. _"As it is you're simply a whore pregnant with the King's child."_

There was a low murmur from those listening and Lyra winced, head still lowered, determined not to let her tears fall until she was out of his presence.  He'd taken to keeping her here, in the throne room with him, as something of a showpiece, a reminder that no one, not even the queen, was wise to defy him.  But he would be leaving the Hall himself soon, and she would be able to retreat to their chambers to give vent to her anger and heartbreak.

 

And then something shimmered, like a ripple on the surface of still water.

Lyra looked up, confused.

 _"Shhhh,"_   Loki whispered, touching a finger to his lips.  "Don't say a word."  He slowly turned his hand in the air, long fingers manipulating nothing, and the shimmer dissipated.  He turned to Lyra and smiled.

Still confused, the queen shrugged her shoulders at him, indicating she didn't understand.  An indulgent chuckle escaped Loki's lips as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and nuzzled his mouth gently to the soft lobe, giving it a teasing bite as he settled her more comfortably on his lap. 

"Allow me to show you what's going on out there."  He waved his hand and Lyra was suddenly looking through a swirling mist at herself, standing before the throne with her head down, being berated by the king.

She looked at him, confused.  "Is it an illusion?"

He nodded.

"What is the purpose of it?"

"While you're looking at me,  _they - "_  He gestured with his hand, indicating everyone around them - "are looking at _that._   It's playing out around us, while we are quietly tucked away behind it."

Lyra gave him a scolding look, a sudden understanding of his duplicity showing in her eyes - though without any comprehension as to why.  Then just as quickly her face fell into fear as she heard herself, her illusory other, pleading for mercy.  She sat up quickly, squirming out of Loki's arms.

"We have to tell Thor...I didn't understand why his disposition toward you has become so hateful of late, but if he's been seeing something other than reality - Loki, I've been watching him, the way he looks at you now.  He has the look of a man plotting murder."

"Oh I'm not worried about Thor," the king said in a dismissive tone.  "I quite enjoy our little spats.  Some days they're the only true exercise I get."

"But why show them this falsehood?  Why make them despise you?"

He settled her back onto his lap again, holding her against him like a favored child.  "A despised king is a powerful king, a king that no one entertains thoughts of crossing."

Wresting herself from his arms again, Lyra stared at her husband in disbelief.  "So I'm a warning to keep the subjects obedient?"

Loki nodded, but the haunted look in his eyes told her there was more to it than that.  His voice, when he spoke again, was full of a deep and abiding sadness, the sadness that had been there since their wedding day.

"I couldn't bear the thought of Sigyn falling into history," he said quietly, eyes closed so he wouldn't have to see Lyra's reaction to his words.  "Of letting her be forgotten by the people who once loved her nearly as much as I did.  Letting them see me grow to love you...would be a betrayal of her memory.  I couldn't let it happen.  But I couldn't stop it...so I hid it."  He opened his eyes again, sighing deeply as he let his head fall back to the chair.  "While you and I play footsie and cast doe eyes at one another, _they_ see me subjecting you to the worst of humiliations...just as a fearsome king still in love with his dead wife would do."

Lyra stared at him, his words slowly sinking in, their meaning becoming clear.  She tried to hide her surprise by turning her face away.  "I didn't know you loved me, Sire."

There was a small laugh as Loki turned her face back to his, his fingers under her chin.  His voice became tender, eyes soft as they searched hers.  "Has it not been obvious?"

"No."

Neither of them said anything for a long moment;  Lyra could hear the noise of the court, the murmurings of shocked observers, her own trembling voice begging for pardon somewhere outside reality.

"When did the illusion begin?"

"When you came into the throne room to tell me you were with child."

Confusion clouded Lyra's face again.  "You dismissed everyone and kissed me."

"That isn't what they saw."

She thought for a moment, letting this new revelation sink in.  "Dare I ask what they did see?"

A slow smile crossed Loki's face.  "They watched in horror as I had you lashed for defending your dignity."

"And why, exactly, did I need to defend my dignity?"

"Because I'd just had Vandas violate you in front of the advisors and a few random onlookers."

Lyra sighed.  "Oh Loki...why must you make your own life so difficult?  So many people want to love you..."

"Your love is enough for me, my queen."  He pressed his hand to her belly and rubbed it gently.  "All will be well, you have my word."

 

Despite Loki's lack of concern for his own safety, Lyra went out of her way to find herself in the same places with Thor, attempting to alert him that she was well so that he might rethink the plans she knew were formulating in his head.  He had authority over the entire army - any number of assassins would be at his disposal, ready to carry out any order he issued, including the murder of the king if he so decreed it. She couldn't allow the two brothers to destroy one another, and Loki didn't seem to be taking the threat seriously.

But each time she let herself be seen by Thor, his face grew darker with rage.  Confused, Lyra checked her reflection in her bedchamber mirror, but saw nothing that would provoke such anger in anyone observing her...then she remembered the shimmer that had alerted her to the illusion, and realized what was happening.  Loki had placed a spell around her, an illusion that was showing Thor what he wanted him to see.

Only Loki could remove it.

Desperate, she finally rose early to attend the morning sparring matches on a day when she knew her husband wouldn't be participating.  Thor was training some new men in swordplay, and when he was finished Lyra made her way down to the ground level, waiting near the exits for him to pass.  She caught his eye through the crowd, nervously watching as his face fell into that angry mask he always wore when he saw her.

 _"All is not as it seems,"_ she whispered when he was near enough to hear her, his head bowed respectfully as he raised her hand to his forehead in the customary posture of obeisance;  she saw his back stiffen, but he didn't look up at her.   _"You see what he wants you to see,"_ she added quietly before pulling her hand out of his grasp and turning, walking away quickly before he could respond.

 

Lyra's words troubled him, but after dwelling on them all night Thor still couldn't make out their meaning.  Was the trickster god playing with his head?  It wouldn't be the first time.  He lay on his bed, turning a blade over and over in his hand above his face, watching the moonlight glint off the blackened steel.  Earlier that day he had wanted nothing more than to bury this blade in the back of his brother's neck, between the fourth and fifth vertebrae...to twist it and watch the life drain out of him before his cold body hit the ground.  He'd wondered, briefly, morbidly, if Loki would revert to his Jotun form upon his death.  Wouldn't _that_ be a disgrace to the throne of Asgard, sending a blue skinned king off to the hereafter.

And which hereafter would Loki go to?  Would his deformed daughter greet him at the doors of the underworld?  Or would the manner of his death, assassinated at the hand of his own military leader, qualify him for entrance into Valhalla as a fallen warrior?

But Lyra's words kept repeating themselves over and over in his head, driving out the thoughts of treasonous murder and replacing them with confusion and uncertainty.

_All is not as it seems.  You see what he wants you to see._

All he could see when he closed his eyes were her bruises, angry purple marks that the king in his arrogance refused to allow her to cover.  Exposed, for all to see.  Flaunting his right to treat his property, his queen, in any manner he saw fit.

_You see what he wants you to see._

Solving riddles had never been one of Thor's talents...that particular skill had always belonged to Loki.  And now it seemed he'd orchestrated a riddle far too complex for him to even begin to comprehend.

Slamming the blade into the soft wood of the bedside table, Thor grunted in frustration and rubbed his face with his palms.  He would sleep on it, then try to find Lyra in the morning.  Perhaps she would be willing to shed some light on it for him.

And if not, he would simply murder Loki.

 

_To be continued..._


	14. Captive

 

Lyra stared at her husband, her face a momentarily frozen mask of shocked disbelief.  He and Thor had crossed swords once again and neither had escaped unscathed - the gaping wound in his shoulder was already closing, assisted in rapid healing by his seidr, but Lyra still tended to it as if he needed care.  Thor had been forced to retreat to the healing rooms for his own injuries.

"He's going to murder you, Loki!"  She didn't even try to hide the anger and frustration in her voice, nor in her expression.  She was ready to slap him if he didn't listen to her this time.  She wiped the blood from his skin a bit more roughly than was strictly necessary, making him wince, though he found her overwrought concern amusing.

Loki simply shook his head.  His queen was young and inexperienced, she knew nothing of the politics of rulership, nor of the uneasy peace that existed between the kingdoms.  He reached his hand out to her, waiting until she took it to pull her gently onto his lap.

"We're about to go to war, Lyra," he said quietly.  "Our enemies have always seen me as the adopted sorcerer halfblood son of a once great king, just filling the throne until a more worthy ruler takes it by force.  I was seen as weak, and the loss of my family so soon before my taking of the throne just made me look that much more easily defeatable.  I had to do something.  I had to show the visiting emissaries that I was no weak willed throne sitter."

He was met with a furrowed brow, his meaning obviously not clear to her.  He thought for a moment, trying to find the best way to explain the nature of wartime relations among the realms.

"My perceived ill treatment of you has always been in the presence of people whose words carried weight.  People who would then take their firsthand account of the king of Asgard's unmitigated cruelty back to their own homelands.  Words are powerful, my sweet."  He shifted her on his lap, pulling her closer.  "One person of importance whispers to another that King Loki of Asgard mistreats his queen and by the time that whisper has made its way through the kingdom, the armies are trembling at the thought of going up against the dread sorcerer king who beheads one wife after another and executes the entire kitchen staff for putting too much salt in the stew.  It's the nature of rumor.  It's very easy to make it work in your favor, if your intentions are...not quite noble."  Bringing his hand up gently to push her long hair back off her shoulder, he offered a kind smile to soften his next words.  "When war comes - and it will - you would be in danger.  A beloved queen becomes a huge liability when opposing forces march on a city.  If they think you are nothing to me, they won't bother taking you for ransom.  And I have taken great pains to ensure that they think just that - that you mean nothing to me."

He rubbed his eyes then, and Lyra noticed the tiredness in his face, the great fatigue that he seemed to carry now.

"Does maintaining the illusion drain you?"

Loki smiled indulgently.  His smart little queen.  "Do not worry yourself with such things, my sweet," he purred against her cheek as he pressed a kiss there.  "Just grow this baby for me."  He rubbed her belly, noting that the bump was slightly larger, Lyra's body slightly fuller.  He felt a little tug in his groin despite his weariness and let his hand slide down under the swell of her tummy.

"Sire, now isn't the time - "

"Shhhh," he shushed her, shifting her on his lap again so that her back was against his front, leaning back with her, one hand coming up to cup and squeeze her breast while the other began pulling her skirt up. "You might be surprised to find my desire for you grows as your belly does.  I find the pregnant female body to be...intensely arousing."

"Sire.. _.Loki._.."  Lyra squirmed on his lap but the fight wasn't really in her;  Loki's hand had found its way between her legs and was rubbing her, strong fingers finding their way into her soft folds to probe at her innermost parts, making her bite her lip and drop her head back against his shoulder.  "Please Loki, please promise me you'll tell Thor what's going on...swear him to secrecy if you must, but...please tell him."

"Be quiet, my little queen."  He pushed a finger deep into her, holding her tight with his other arm around her chest so that she couldn't wriggle off his lap.  "Let me make you ready for me...I do so love the way you respond to my touch...your cunt swollen, your body weeping for my intrusion, preparing to accept me, your nipples pert and ready for my suck."  He lowered his arm, releasing his grasp on her long enough to pull the front of her dress down, exposing her breasts.  He turned her on his lap far enough to reach them and took a hard nipple into his mouth, pulling and tugging at it till she gasped and moaned his name in an agonized voice filled with desire. 

"Let me see how sweetly...deliciously... _beautifully_  you come undone."

 

As Winter drew to a close and Spring began to spread its warmth over the lands, Lyra's belly began to grow, as did the king's tender feelings toward her.  At her insistent urging he temporarily lowered the illusion from around her, allowing Thor to see her unscathed - but he refused to cease the other trickery, the one that showed the entire kingdom his false mistreatment of her.

"Are you so bored that you feel the need to provoke your own subjects into mutiny and treason?"

Loki grinned.

"I did as you asked, darling - I allowed Thor to see the truth.  He'll prevent any murder attempts, I assure you."  His smile widened, thinking of his brother's reaction when the illusion had dropped, revealing an unbruised, undamaged queen with a happy smile instead of downcast, frightened eyes.  The surprise on Thor's face, followed by the realization that he had been duped, with a quick shift into indignation and anger at Loki for once again playing him for a fool...it all brought an incredible amount of satisfaction to the king.  This, along with his increasing affection for his wife, served to put him into a good humor that had shown no sign of wavering for many weeks.  Lyra's hopes rose that perhaps his darkness had finally been tamed.

But now that his bitter edge was softening, she felt one sharpening in herself.  She didn't understand it, dismissing it as a hormonal fluctuation resultant from the pregnancy, but the more she pushed it down, the deeper it burrowed.

 

He had ordered a hardingfele to be crafted for her, intricately designed with beautiful scrollwork, brought to their chambers and presented to her by the finest builder of musical instruments in the realm.  The craftsman had laid it at her feet with a deep bow, eyes carefully averted from the horrific illusion of bruises and marks on the queen's face and shoulders.  Lyra had cradled the gift like a beloved child, crying and thanking him for his beautiful work.

"I cannot have my queen playing an instrument borrowed from the mead hall minstrels," Loki had said with an indulgent smile, kissing her as she lovingly stroked the hard glazed wood, her fingers playing lightly over the fine hair strings.

He now picked it up from where it lay on the balcony table, bringing it to her and placing it gently in her hands.

"Play for me, my sweet."

The bow glided effortlessly across the golden strings, creating a melody of surpassing beauty and sadness such as Loki had never heard before.  It wasn't a tune he recognized.

"Where does this music come from, Lyra?  Is it in your heart, or does it come from your soul?"

Closing her eyes, the queen let her memories enshroud her, memories that she at first had attributed to unsettling dreams, but that she was now beginning to understand were real.  The memories of a child, too small to run or fight, suited only to hide while armies marched past, their tunics crimson with the blood of her family. The memories of a little girl dragged screaming from the closet her mother had hidden her in, taken away to a faraway land and forbidden to speak her own language, raised in a strange place by strange people...her life left behind, nothing more than a broken fiddle smashed under the boot of a soldier.

_Why do I have these memories...?_

_These are not my memories._

But she knew they were.

 

"I'm not sure where it comes from," she said quietly.

He came to her, strong arms encircling her, and though she felt only love now in his embrace, the knowledge that her own kingdom lay in desolate ruin ran a coursing chill through her bones.

_He didn't do this.  He's not to blame._

But he was there...he had fought in that war.  She remembered him now.  His voice, his dark hair, black as a raven, the emerald magic that leapt from his fingertips.  His argument that the children should be left behind.  She hadn't known the language he spoke, had understood not a word of his angry tirade, but now she knew that language, heard the words again.   _Leave them,_ he had barked at the soldiers under his command.  But the king, Odin, had commanded that all noble offspring too young to slaughter be brought back, and so the soldiers had overridden Loki's counter order and dragged her out, crying and choking on her own horrified sobs, as he watched with a scowl on his face.

 

She was in the gardens when her waters broke.  She had lain in bed with Loki just that morning, wrapped in his arms, the baby kicking between them as she complained about the pains that had been coming steadily for hours.

"It's almost your time," Loki had said to her, smiling as he rubbed her jerking belly.  "You'll be a mother soon."  She had tried to smile back at him, to return his happiness, but the pain had been terrible and seemed only to be getting worse.  But she said nothing, simply laying her hand over his and sighing contentedly when he entwined their fingers.

 

"Sire, it's the queen.  She is in the birthing chamber.  Your presence is requested."

Loki's face lit up as he hastily handed his sword to his sparring partner, smiling excitedly.  "Is she doing alright?" he asked the messenger as he pushed quickly past him.  The messenger didn't respond, and the king turned to see the man's hesitant expression; his heart dropped and a chill shiver went through him.  "What's happened?"

"I don't know, Sire, I wasn't told."

He didn't even bother running to the east wing, where his wife was laboring in the palace birthing chambers - he closed his eyes and vanished, leaving the messenger to stand alone in the corridor, wondering if he should follow on foot.

 

"Mother what's happening?"

Frigga stepped in front of Loki the moment he materialized at the doorway, stopping him from entering.  Her gentle smile was shallow and he knew it was for his benefit, but he could see in her eyes that it was a lie.

_"Tell me."_

"The baby is too big and she is too small," she said quietly, desperately attempting to put a soothing tone into her voice.  But she knew Loki was too perceptive to be fooled by such a simple ploy.

"The midwives know what to do, do they not?"

"They do.  But it will be a long and difficult delivery, Loki."  She held his gaze, staying in front of him so he would have to look at her.  "Lyra is weak."

 

He entered the chamber to the quiet protest of one of the attending midwives;  a quick look from Frigga as she followed him silenced the woman, who stepped back and bowed as the king and his mother strode across the room to the bed where Lyra sat, panting and sweating, her body trembling with pain.  Loki sat on the edge of the bed and grasped her shoulders, lowering his face so she would look at him.  He smiled reassuringly when he saw recognition in her eyes.

"I can take some of your pain into myself so that you can have enough strength to get through this, Lyra.  But you have to allow me to do it.  Do you understand?"

Confusion crossed her face as the midwives began chattering to each other in shock at his words, but Frigga shushed them, shooting them a warning look as she hurried back to the door where Thor had just hesitantly entered.  His face bore an expression of worry and intense apprehension and Frigga knew the birthing chamber was the absolute _last_ place he wanted to be - but he had been told of the impending birth and Lyra's condition, and had felt compelled to come and offer his support to his brother.

His brother, who was standing next to the birthing bed, taking off his boots and stripping down to his trousers.

 

Loki eased onto the bed behind Lyra, taking her weight against his chest with his legs on either side of her.  When he reached around her stomach to enclose her in his arms, she felt a crackling sensation in her nervous system, an electrical tingling up her spine that set her nerve endings alight with a cold heat.

"Relax," Loki's voice told her gently.  "Disassociate yourself from the pain."

Closing her eyes, she relaxed her body against him as the contraction waned and she was able to clear her mind a bit.  His hands were rubbing her belly, his voice soothing her with whispered words that she didn't understand.

Her eyes flew open when she heard him gasp with pain behind her.  When he tensed, she realized what he was doing.   _He's taking it._  But a new contraction was ripping through her lower body and she could no longer hold her thoughts as the intense pain coursed through her.

Loki groaned, his hands tightening on her hips.

The intensity of the pain suddenly lowered, becoming bearable as it left her and entered him, and Lyra was able to breathe through it properly, bearing down when the midwife ordered it and pushing when she was told.  She felt the baby slip lower into her pelvis and Loki cried out quietly behind her, his voice muffled against the back of her neck.

"What is he doing?" Thor asked, confused by the scene before him.  Never had he seen a man in the birthing chambers, participating in a delivery.  "Why is he on the bed with her?"

"He's helping her," Frigga said quietly.  There was no mistaking the note of pride in her voice, in the look upon her face as she watched.  "He's taking her pain so she can deliver the baby."

_"He's what?"_

 

Loki's voice had dropped to a deep growl while Lyra pushed, both their bodies tense with the effort;  he concentrated his will into pulling more pain from her into himself, affording her the strength to gather her bearings and push harder.  The midwife suddenly smiled and announced that the head had breached.

Loki took Lyra's trembling hand and reached down between her legs, touching the top of the baby's head with his fingers entwined in hers as they both panted, catching their breath.  Together they felt the wet little head, thick with hair.

"Rest for a moment and then one big push should bring the head completely out," the midwife told them, her eyes betraying her confusion about what the king was doing, but accepting the fact that it seemed to be working.  She had expected to lose both mother and child, but it now - amazingly - appeared that they would not only survive, but possibly without damage.

Loki let his head fall back, his face pale and damp with sweat as Lyra rested hers against his shoulder.  Nobody in the chambers had ever seen such a thing - the King, not only attending a birth, but assisting. And not only assisting...but doing  _this_...whatever this was.  

"Sire," the midwife asked, waiting till Loki's eyes opened and focused on her.  "The final stage will be easier for her if she is on her knees.  Gravity will assist in pulling the baby through the birth canal."

"No," Loki said sharply, eyes falling closed again, breath still coming in quick raspy heaves.  "I need to be in full contact with her body.  She'll be able to do it this way."

There was no argument in the midwife's reply.  "Yes Sire."

A new contraction began, ripping Loki's breath from his lungs.  His concentration slipped for a moment from the sheer intensity of it and Lyra cried out in pain as the full effect hit her.  Regathering himself quickly, Loki hugged her tight against him, channeling her discomfort back into himself with a murmured apology against her ear.  She calmed again and obeyed the midwife's order to begin pushing.

"Bear down," Loki coached her, feeling the sensations of the birth in his own body.  His instincts took over and he suddenly knew what to do;  pressing his hands against the top curve of her belly, he applied gentle pressure and began pushing downward.  There was a sudden jolting motion as the baby's shoulders turned, and he leaned forward, reaching down between her legs to grasp the infant and pull him out.

 

When the baby finally slipped through and fell wetly into Loki's and Frigga's hands, it was already crying a lusty wail that brought relieved smiles around the room.  The cord was clamped and the infant - a big, healthy boy with an incredible amount of raven black hair - was laid on Lyra's stomach.  Loki cradled them both in his arms, catching his breath, his face etched with pain but a happiness in his eyes that hadn't been there for a long time.  Frigga recognized it as she watched him help Lyra lift the baby to her breast...it was the same happiness that had lit his face when he was told of the birth of his twin sons.  Sigyn had had a difficult delivery with them as well, both boys being larger than normal for twins;  no doubt a genetic trait passed to them through Loki, even though he himself had been born small for what he was.

She felt her pride spreading a smile across her face and shooed the midwives out of the room, following them herself so that Loki and Lyra could be alone with their newborn.  As she closed the door behind her, she saw her son with his arms wrapped around his wife, speaking soft words to her as he stroked the baby's head, rocking them both.

 

 

_To be continued..._


	15. Home

 

 

"Loki, your games are going to get you into trouble one of these days."

"But Mother, you agreed to play your part - "

"Yes I know, it was a good idea...and it's worked, obviously.  The rumors of _the dread Sorcerer King_ have reached every corner of the realm.  My spies bring back nothing but reports of how much our enemies fear you.  But Loki...maybe it's time to stop and let your own people forgive you for your perceived trespasses...you _do_ want them on your side when war comes, don't you?"

He knew she was right, but the desire to deceive was so deeply entrenched in Loki's nature that giving up the illusion seemed an arbitrary punishment for a crime not committed.  But war was indeed coming, and he needed his army ready to follow his every command without hesitation.  They would march behind Thor into any maelstrom, but what of the people at home?

"Alright, Mother," he finally agreed with an indulgent smile.  "Consider it done."

 

Loki returned from the woods, silently padding through the corridors on quiet paws, claws clicking softly on the marble floors as he made his way around the palace in the dark.  He briefly considered taking the form of a raven to eavesdrop from the rafters on the few people he knew would still be awake at this hour - the captain of the guard, whom he knew was carrying on something of a secret affair with Lyra's handmaiden, or various other palace staff who worked through the night.  He often enjoyed letting them catch glimpses of him in the shadows or sneaking up and growling from the darkness...the rumors of a wolf wraith that roamed the palace halls was gaining credence thanks to his pranks.

It kept him entertained while Lyra was recovering from the birth.

And then of course there was always the option of spying on Thor, who would be sharpening his sword either literally or figuratively, depending on his mood and the availability of the brothel whores.  At this hour, they would all likely be paired up for the night with the soldiers and off duty guards, or sleeping.  Thor was too polite to wake anyone for something so base as sex, and since the dissolution of his relationship with the Midgardian scientist, his sword - the literal one - had been kept quite sharp.

Loki passed the residential wing and continued to his own.  His wife was regaining her strength and the healers had pronounced her of good health.  The baby was growing quickly, big and strong and an exact image of himself.  The kingdom was at an uneasy peace, in that somewhat settled area between conflict and resolution, and he had removed the illusion from around Lyra.  The whispers were that the king had either lost his vicious insanity or had taken a change of heart after the birth of his heir, and he was looked upon in a generally favorable light by his subjects.  But the trick had served its intended purpose in making him a respected entity, and their enemies had fallen into a complacent silence.

All was good.

But Loki was restless.

He had taken to running in the hills at night again, working off his boredom by scaring travelers, dispelling his aggression by hunting both animals and men.  The female wolf had crossed his path a few times but he had snarled a warning at her and she now respected his disinterest, cutting a wide berth when she smelled him nearby.  He was waiting out Lyra's recovery but it was making him anxious and cranky, and he may or may not have arbitrarily terrorized a few parties of visiting dignitaries as they crossed the woods toward Asgard.  But he had listened in on their conversations first, hidden safely on a ridge above them, his keen wolf ears so finely tuned he could hear their words above the wind and rustling of the leaves.

What he heard both disturbed and excited him.

 

Entering the bedchamber, he kept his wolf form and approached the bed where Lyra lay sleeping.  The baby was at her breast, nursing in his sleep.  Loki watched them for a moment, then gently licked the back of the baby's head.  It disturbed the child enough that he stirred and began to fuss, waking Lyra immediately.

Her eyes went first to her son, then to Loki.

"Sire, stop that," she scolded him quietly, sitting up to rock the baby against her shoulder.  "Get out of here, you smell wet."

Loki lept onto the bed and curled up next to her, nudging his nose into her lap with a little whine.

"Speak properly, I don't understand canis."

He growled, raising his head to stare into her eyes in a show of aggression;  a low bark erupted from his throat, followed by a nip at her nose.  She responded by swatting him on the muzzle with her hand and scolding him.  "Off!" she commanded, pointing to the floor next to the bed.  Still growling but with his head low, Loki stood and jumped to the floor, curling up on a small rug to wait for Lyra to finish getting the baby back to sleep.

After a while he fell asleep himself;  he awoke and laid his head on the edge of the bed, whimpering to get her attention.  She had the baby at her breast and ignored his complaints, but reached out to pet his head, scratching behind his ears.  He watched the baby feed, a tinge of jealousy rising in his gut, mixed with something the man-side of his awareness recognized as arousal.  He wanted to suck at her breasts, to feel her hard nipples in his mouth and taste her warm milk.  He licked his lips and whined.

"Shhhh, don't you wake him," Lyra warned as she pushed his head off the bed and swung her legs over the edge.  Loki watched as her long gown rode up, exposing the soft white skin of her thighs.  He tried to rub his muzzle against her but she stood and walked slowly to the empty cradle, gently swaying with the baby still against her chest, the top of her gown open so she could soothe him with contact against her bare skin.  The cool silver moonlight shining off her flesh made her look like a water nymph and Loki felt compelled to follow her, catching up to her as she bent over to lay the baby in the cradle.  He stood up behind her, transforming back into his man form right as he made contact, his arms going around her to push her gown down off her shoulders.  It fell to the floor and he pushed up against her, his erection stiff and throbbing as he shoved it between her thighs from behind.

"Loki, no," she whispered harshly, reaching back to grab his hips and push him away.  But he had her in a tight embrace and she couldn't put any space between them.  "Not here, we'll wake the baby," she begged as she felt his cock sliding into her folds.  "Please?  And I'm not ready...please Loki."  The pleading in her voice brought him back to his senses and he stopped pushing, stepping back a little but not letting go of her.

 _"I need to fuck you, Lyra,"_ he growled against her shoulder where his teeth were making red indents in her skin. _"I need you..."_

"I know, my love..."  She turned in his arms and gasped when she saw his eyes, the feral gold of the wolf, not the soft green of her husband.  She knew then that he wasn't in control of himself.  Taking his face in her hands, she began kissing his mouth softly, sucking gently at his lips, calming him with quiet words in between kisses.  But his heart rate wasn't slowing and she could hear the rumbling in his chest, the sound an animal makes when it's about to pounce.

Before she could stop him he had bent her back over the cradle and was biting at her breasts, nipping and sucking at her nipples.  They were tender and sore and his lips were being unnecessarily rough, but she felt herself becoming intensely aroused at the primitive need she could feel rising in him.  The pain was adding to the intensity and by the time he pushed his hand between her legs to slip a finger into her, she was so wet it slid in with no resistance.

An agonized moan ripped from her lips and she gave in to him.  She had just barely stopped bleeding from the birth and hadn't yet been examined by a healer, but she knew Loki wasn't going to be dissuaded. When he pushed her to the cold stone floor she whimpered in discomfort, arching up against him violently from the icy chill against her bare back.  He was still biting at her breasts and his teeth felt sharper...

_He's not completely shifted._

Sliding her hands down his sides, she felt soft fur and recoiled in shock.  He had never come near her this far removed from himself.

"No, Loki!"

Struggling beneath him, Lyra knew immediately that she was overpowered and that he wasn't present enough in his own mind to listen to her protests.  In a desperate attempt to get his attention, she reached over her head and grabbed the rocker of the cradle and shook it, startling the baby into shrieking wakefulness.

Loki's head shot up, eyes glowing golden with an untamed, unnatural ferocity;  he snarled, but then an expression of concerned recognition furrowed his brow and he stood quickly, bending over the cradle to reach for his son.

Lyra, panicked, swung her leg out and kicked him fiercely in the back of the calf.  "Put him down!"

"Ow, fuck Lyra stop it."

A sense of relief so heavy that it nearly made her faint overcame her at the sound of his voice - it had returned to normal, none of the feral rasping growl left in it - and Lyra saw when he looked down at her that his eyes had gone back to green again.  Quickly retrieving her gown from the floor, she stood and pulled it on, moving to take the baby from him.  He gave her an irritated look and turned so that the crying child was out of her reach.

"What's wrong with you, woman?  I have a passel of offspring older than you, if you think I don't know how to shush a whining infant you're sorely mistaken."  He lifted the baby against his chest, bouncing him gently till he ceased fussing and settled again.  He looked at Lyra and smirked a bit at her nervous demeanor.  He remembered his other wives, how high strung they had been right after the births of their children...it was a sign of a good mother, to be fearfully protective even when the imagined threat is only the baby's father.

He lay the quieted infant back in the cradle again and took Lyra by the hand, pulling her to the bed with him.  He had been respectfully leaving her alone as was required by the healers, but he'd been through this enough times to know how long was long enough.  Lyra hadn't tried to stop him earlier so he knew she was fine with it - and he hadn't smelled blood when he was in his wolf form.  If she was still bleeding he would have known immediately.  He couldn't stop himself leering lustily at her as he pushed her gown off her shoulders again, sitting on the edge of the bed with her standing between his knees.  As the gown fell away, exposing her lush, swollen breasts to his hungry gaze, he felt himself stiffening again.

"You look delicious, my little queen," he murmured as he pulled her to him, taking a jutting nipple into his mouth and suckling it till her milk let down.  He slurped at her greedily, squeezing her breast so that the warm sweet liquid filled his mouth more quickly.  Lyra held his head to her, moaning from the exquisite pleasure of his attentions mixed with the erotically alluring pain of him biting and tugging at her sore nipples.  He switched to the other breast and smiled when a long, drawn out groan escaped her throat.  "I meant what I said, Lyra - I need to fuck you."

"I thought that was just the wolf talking, Sire."

"The wolf doesn't talk."

"But it growls quite seductively," she argued, hastily sliding her hands up the length of his thighs to fondle him.  Her touch took away his already tenuous self control and he dragged her onto the bed, straddling her hips on his knees as he stroked himself into full readiness, gazing down into her face and seeing such naked desire there that it almost made him want to shift back to the animal again.

"Are you ready for me, Lyra?" he asked, calming himself long enough to express a moment of concern.  "Are you healed?"

Her eager nod and her hands reaching for him were all the answer he needed and he lowered himself onto her, pushing in without hesitation as her legs went around him, her startled gasp in his ear only serving to make him harder.  He knew it must hurt, having him inside her so soon after the difficult delivery, but she didn't make any attempt to stop him and responded with passion, her gasp of discomfort quickly turning to a high, sweet moan of pleasure.

It was what he needed.  His nights running in the woods could stop again, until the next time he felt the need to lose himself to wild instinct and predatory violence.  But for now, with Lyra writhing beneath him, her hand over his mouth to keep him from waking the baby with his grunts and curses, the king was home again.

 

 

_To be continued..._


	16. Battlecry

 

 

Lyra's dream came to her again and again, each time sharpening her memories into brighter focus.

_Leave them._

**_Leave them._ **

She was dragged over her nanny's dead body, past her mother's.  Her mother, whose hands had smoothed her hair and calmed her just minutes previous as she pushed her into the little closet, telling her to be quiet, that there was going to be much noise but that she would be safe so long as she stayed put.

She had stayed put, and in the end she had been safe - safe in a cage, being dragged back to Asgard with the other captive children.  Safe in the queen's presence.  Safe in a castle far away.  And now safe in the king's arms.  Somehow she doubted this was what her mother had meant.

The king, who had been but a prince at the time.  She remembered him.  How he had rode his horse past the wagon that held the children, how he had glanced inside it, his bright green eyes falling to each of them as he looked them over.  The sadness in his face that turned to anger as he spurred his horse ahead, shouting to someone.  He had wanted to leave them, but that sadness confused her.  In her childish confusion over her situation she had thought the prince was taking the children to care for by himself, that she would go and live with him, but weeks later when she was settled into the care of palace nannies, she realized the prince had children of his own.  He cared nothing for the stolen offspring of another world.  But he had smiled at her once, just once, and she had thought, for one brief moment, that he remembered her.

 

Loki sat on the throne waiting for his advisors to finish discussing the day's events among themselves.  He was tired and his manners were slipping, but he had been there since early morning and all they had truly agreed on was that conflict was nearing.  This was something he already knew from his nocturnal outings - he liked to creep up on travelers, sometimes stalking their campsites, to listen in on their conversations. Sometimes he heard inane gossip about which Duke was screwing what servant and whose child was really sired by the cook...and sometimes he heard plans of attack, strategies for infiltration, and outright declarations of war.

They had nothing new to tell him.

 _War is coming,_ they insisted

 _It is closer than we think,_ they exclaimed.

 _It is here,_ Loki grinned.   _We just have to wait for it to look us in the eye and smile._

 

Lyra fell pregnant a second time in the Autumn, bringing the news to Loki as he sat in his library, not really reading so much as making a decision concerning the safety of his family.  As she settled onto his lap and brought his hand to her stomach, a smile lighting her eyes to contradict the darkness of worry in his, the king gazed upon his wife with a hard won adoration that warmed her.

"You are to be a father again, Sire."

"And you a mother."

She nodded, snuggling against his neck.  There was a contentment in her heart, but also an edge of something else, something that stabbed deep and made her flinch when he touched her before she settled into his embrace.

"Do you remember me, Sire?" she murmured as he kissed her head.  His confused look almost made her angry, and the feeling disturbed her.

"Remember you?"

"I was the child in the closet."

He looked at her with confusion, the lack of comprehension in his eyes honest.  He didn't know her.  "There were many children in many closets," he said quietly, his eyes still telling the truth, now darkened with a quietly enraged sadness, and she remembered the look he had worn when he glanced into the cage.  "Too many."

 _Let it go,_ she told herself as he absently rubbed her belly. _It was a long time ago.  He doesn't even remember it._

 

Weeks later he called her to the throne room.  His expression was stern but there was something soft in his eyes as she knelt and then approached him. 

"Lyra, if I or anyone in my direct employ ever tells you to take the children and get to the dungeons, you're to obey without question, do you understand?"

"Yes, Sire."

"No hesitation, you take the children and go.  Do I have your word?"

"Yes."

An emissary approached and Loki dismissed her quickly.  She took a small bow and turned to leave;  she knew he still wanted to perpetuate the illusion of caring little for her, especially in the presence of representatives from other kingdoms.  It was safer, he insisted, to let them believe she was of no import to him.  It chafed her to have to act as if her husband didn't love her when she knew he did, but she also knew he was right...especially now that they had an heir to the throne and another expectant.  She left the throne room and made her way through the suddenly crowded corridor, stepping to the side to keep from being bumped and jostled by the throng of uniformed soldiers.

"Where are they going?" she asked a passing servant, laden with scabbards and weaponry and glancing nervously toward the group he was supposed to be following.

"A military exercise, My Lady.  Excuse me, please."

Lyra nodded and followed at a distance as the servant raced to catch up to the soldiers emptying into the courtyard, falling into order quickly as Loki and Thor stepped out into their midst.  She stepped back, hiding just inside the doorway to watch.

 _This is no exercise_ she became quickly aware from the words Thor shouted at the men.  They were being dispatched to a perimeter patrol, their instructions to protect the city walls at all costs.  Lyra gasped, slapping her hand over her mouth and pressing further back into the shadows as Loki turned, squinting, his eyes darting to the place where she had been.  She waited until he turned back to the soldiers, then scurried away to her chambers.

 

He slept apart from her that night.  She knew it was customary for the king to bunk with his generals the night before going into battle, but thus far no battle had been declared.  There was no warning sounded from the walls, no messengers bearing news of attack.  Lyra took the baby from his cradle and brought him into the big bed with her, letting the sound of his breathing and his little infant noises keep her just awake enough that her dreams stayed away, though the memories still flitted through her mind, agitating her.  Loki's voice demanding that the children be left behind. The confusing mix of emotions in his face. He didn't remember her...but she remembered him.  And every time the memory came back, it left in its wake a disturbing bit of blackness that she didn't understand.  He had tried to disobey an order from the king, but why?  She wished she had a way to find out, but Loki didn't recall the event, and she began to wonder if her mind had conjured it from the fragmented bits of her childhood, erased but still ghosting a faint image onto her subconscious.

She was sleeping fitfully when the wolf slipped quietly into the room, creeping up to the bed and staring at her in the silvery moonlight, its jaws open and panting like a friendly dog waiting to be petted.  It laid its head on the pillow next to her head, sniffing her for a moment before darting its tongue out to lick the side of her face.  Lyra groaned and swiped at her cheek, turning away and settling with her back to him.

He watched her for a while longer, then turned and padded out of the room on silent paws.

 

And then, just like that, it began.

At first there was a chill in the air, a pervasive sense of unease that made its way through the kingdom, carried on the faces of the people as they went on about their daily activities, interacting and conducting business.  But it was always there, in the nervous casting of eyes heavenward, in the skittish way mothers hurried their children indoors the moment the skies began to grow dark with night, in the way the soldiers slept with their armor next to their bunks.  In the way the king's eyes grew hard and cold, devoid of loving glances toward either her or their child.  She knew he was distancing himself from them so that when the time came, he could go into battle without the distraction of sentiment.  He would come back to her, the same Loki she knew, after it was over.

_But I don't know him._

 

"No one truly knows Loki," Frigga told her, a reassuring hand on her arm as she rocked the baby.  She had taken to spending much time with Lyra on the pretense of finally coming out of her period of mourning for Odin, but Lyra sensed it was more of a protective gesture than anything else. Frigga was a warrior, first and foremost, and she was stepping in where Loki was absent...and though the king had stationed a complement of guards at every entrance to the palace and Lyra had her own set of bodyguards always outside her chambers, Frigga felt better being close to her grandchildren with a dagger on her hip.

"He was cruel and heartless when he first married me," Lyra said quietly, staring at the tea in her cup.  "Gradually he warmed, but...I don't know if the man I see when I look at him is the man he truly is, inside."

There was a soft laugh as Frigga dipped her finger into her own teacup and touched it to the baby's lips to give him a taste.  "The man Loki is inside is a mystery, even to Loki," she said gently, smiling her most compassionate smile at the young queen.  "He's not fully Aesir and not fully Jotun, and therefore he will always be somewhere in between, wondering which way to go, but usually just making his own way."

Lyra nodded;  these words made sense to her, as her husband had never acted in the way she expected him to.  He was always somewhere left of center, refusing to comply with expectations, setting his own code of conduct and more often than not breaking even his own rules.  It was confusing and maddening but also exhilarating and, in some strange way, freeing.

But still she felt confused, and when the dreams came, dragging unwelcome memories back with them, she awoke feeling less and less certain of what she truly felt for the man nobody knew.

 

Days went by in quiet as the kingdom waited with bated breath for conflict to rise or peace to fall.  Loki came to her once, in the middle of the night, quietly slipping into their bed to make love to her, but it felt desperate and distant even though he kissed her and whispered that he loved her.  She said it back, but her eyes didn't come to his when the words left her lips.  Loki didn't seem to notice and was gone before first light, retreating to the training grounds with his soldiers, preparing them and himself for the front lines.

In silence, Lyra made her way into his personal armory and took two knives while the guards were distracted.  She wasn't sure why, but the feel of the blades against her skin inside her dress didn't make her feel any safer.  But the cold metal made her feel _something_...she just wasn't sure what. It was more than she felt any other time, though, and as she smuggled them back to her chambers to hide them under the mattress of the bed, the darkness that had been edging its way to the surface came just a little bit closer to showing itself.

 

She gave birth to the king's second heir, a girl, while Loki was away on patrols with the first garrison.  The baby was early, but not worrisomely so, and when word reached the king that his wife had delivered the child safely he turned his steed toward the city, a look of longing on his face as he gazed over the hills and valleys to the golden palace in the distance.  He closed his eyes and listened, hoping to catch a faint whispering cry on the wind that would carry his heart back to his family.  But all he heard was the stamping and snorting of the horses and the cold clink of metal on metal all around him.  He'd slept in his armor for weeks and the sound was common to him now, but today it just seemed alien and unwelcome.

"Take word back to the queen that all is well on the front, and tell her...tell her thank you."

The messenger was confused by the king's message, but delivered it all the same.  Nothing about the pair of them had ever made much sense to him, but then Loki had always been different, and he seemed disinterested in changing anyone's perception of him at this stage in his life.  Turning his horse again, the king broke his steed into a run and disappeared over a ridge;  when the messenger looked back a moment later, he thought he saw a wolf loping across the shallow creekbed that twisted past the camp.

 

He returned home a week later, tired and mentally beaten from endless weeks of planning and formulating strategies and training the soldiers. War was coming but nobody seemed to know when or from what direction;  Asgard's spies either never returned or brought back conflicting stories, and neither Loki nor Thor knew what to do except wait.  Waiting didn't suit them, they were men of action - but there was nothing else to be done, and so they returned to the palace and tried to fall back into their lives.

Loki took comfort in his family, but he was restless and unsettled and spent his nights prowling in the woods again.  He always returned in the early morning hours, as the sun began to rise over the edge of the cliffs, but there was no solace to be taken in Lyra's arms upon his return.  She was in her healing period after the birth of their daughter and though she tried to welcome him with affection, there was a distance in her embrace. He tried to convince himself that she simply needed time to recover her strength, but the lack of passion in her kisses frustrated him.

"Are you healing well, Lyra?" he finally asked, sitting on the edge of their bed watching as she walked the newborn on the balcony.  Their son was asleep in his cradle;  Loki was rocking him gently with his foot, calming his soft whimpers.

"I'm fine, Sire," she said quietly, humming softly to the infant against her chest.  "What do you think will happen?"

Loki rubbed his eyes, tired but unwilling to sleep.  "I don't know.  Something.  Anything.  Nothing."  He lay back on the bed with a sigh.  Something needed to happen soon, the entire realm was in a holding pattern and the army was falling into complacency with the lack of threat.  But it was there, somewhere, Loki could _feel_ it.

 

Another handful of weeks lapsed into history and an unshattered silence still fell every night.  Loki's children continued to grow, more quickly than he thought possible...and though Lyra's desire for him seemed some nights to have returned, there were other nights when she stared into his eyes with the faraway look of a lover betrayed, her body accepting him, but not freely.  He didn't understand it, though he tried to make allowance for it in his care for her, treating her gently, carefully putting away his frustration.  But some nights there was nothing he could do but take to the woods, running until his legs gave out.

 

Lyra woke and pushed him away;  her dreams were making her talk in her sleep and Loki tried to soothe her, but she wanted none of his attention. There was a look of seething hatred in her eyes when she turned away and though she apologized contritely for her rudeness, an anger overtook him.  Rather than turn his temper loose on her, he climbed out of bed and stripped naked, dropping to his knees in a quick transformation;  he turned and snarled at her before trotting out onto the balcony, leaping over the banister and disappearing into the gardens below.  He ran as far as he could before the terrain became too rough and he finally slowed, looking around, realizing how far from home he was.  A strange sound came to him on the wind and he moved slowly closer, sniffing the air, his finely tuned olfactory senses suddenly barraged with a thousand unfamiliar scents.

Creeping up to the edge of the cliff, he peered over.

An entire army was breaking camp.

Turning, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

 

He didn't bother transforming when he reached the city gates - he kept running, past the startled guards, till he reached the inner wall.  Quickly shifting back and grabbing the only horse that hadn't run away when it saw the wolf, he swung himself up into the saddle and screamed for the guards to sound the alarm.  They stared at him in shock, having just watched their king appear before them where a wild wolf had run past.  He issued the order again, voice raspy and raw from howling, and spurred the horse into a dead run as the sirens began to wail.

 

Once inside the palace he shifted to the wolf again so he could run faster, tearing through the corridors, dodging servants and other residents until he skidded to a stop outside his own chambers.  He shifted quickly back to his own form and pushed the door open, bursting in, breathless and near ready to collapse.  He had run miles at top speed without stopping and fell to his knees the moment he entered the bedchamber where Lyra sat nursing their infant.

Clutching the baby tightly to her chest, Lyra stood and looked at Loki with wide eyes.

"What's happening, Sire?"

The look on Loki's face as he raised his head was caught disturbingly between sheer joy and malicious glee...there was nothing of fear in his expression when he looked at her, eyes dancing with excitement.

"We're at war."

 

 

_To be continued..._


	17. Betray

 

 

The sound of the alarms woke the babies and Loki turned when a piercing wail rose from the cradle.  Gathering his son into his arms, he strode onto the balcony, talking to him quietly, pressing kisses to his head as he soothed him.  Lyra stood watching, a nervous apprehension twisting in her gut;  the urge to take the baby from Loki's arms and run away from him was strong, and the look of almost crazed excitement on the king's face did nothing to still her fears - but his demeanor was calm, talking to the child as if he was showing him something new and exciting. Cautiously, she approached them, still holding their daughter as she came up behind him and looked out over his shoulder to see what his eyes were focused on.

The marauding army was coming over the walls - from where they stood it looked like a swarm of ants engulfing a crust of bread.

"They'll be here soon," Loki said quietly.  He turned to Lyra's handmaiden - the woman had entered soon after his arrival - with a stern face.  "You stay with her, never leave her side, do you understand?"  He put the baby into her arms and strode across the chambers, opening the battlements armoire to take out his special armor.  The woman nodded and Lyra watched Loki, trying to ascertain his intent as he strapped himself into his bronze breastplate and tightened the leather belts.

"Are you going out to fight?" she asked, suddenly scared for him.  His armor was strong and enchanted with protective magic, but it left so much of him exposed...his arrogance and great confidence in his own abilities were evident in its design.  He looked at her and for a moment there was a flash of the wolf in his eyes.

"I have to lead the army," he said, his gaze returning to the onslaught.  There was an anxious tautness to his muscles, a readiness to pounce - the many long weeks of waiting for this, of dreading this, and now that it was finally here he couldn't help but look at it as both a relief and an exciting prospect.  He turned to Lyra with a curious little smile and bent to kiss the newborn in her arms.  "You'll be safe here for now, stay well inside and wait for instructions.  Once we know who this is, we'll know how to fight them."

"Are they carrying no colors?"

"None.  I saw their camp, they have no visible identity."  He bent again to press a kiss to Lyra's lips, pulling her briefly into a tight embrace with the baby between them.  "I love you Lyra.  Keep yourself and the children safe."

 

Thor dispatched Asgard's army to fight back the first wave, meeting them at the walls in a brutal confrontation that brought the watchtowers down.  "There are far too many!" he shouted to Loki as the king rode up alongside him, sword at the ready, horse skittish and whinnying.  The brothers looked at one another for a long moment, then, grinning, spurred their steeds onward to meet the second wave head on.

 

Lyra watched from the palace roof as her husband tore headlong into the teeming throngs of enemy soldiers, bolts of emerald lightning flying around him;  she could see Thor close behind, staying near him, and it relieved her to know Loki was protected - although from the scene she was privy to, it didn't appear he needed any help.  She watched for a while longer until she saw him leap from his horse, shifting to his wolf form in mid air, landing on nimble paws that carried him through the masses at a dead run.  She could see Thor laughing as the wolf took down two soldiers at once, tearing the throat from one, shredding the other until there was nothing left of him but bloody armor strewn on the muddy ground...there was no more than a moment's pause before he charged into the next melee, and then the next, leaving bodies in his wake.

It was chilling to watch, yet somehow thrilling.  She wondered if he had utilized his unique skills during the battle with her people...if he had come charging into the palace where she had lived, hurling deadly magic from his hands and dropping to the floor in the guise of a crazed animal.  Had he killed her mother in this way?

Turning, she took her servant by the hand and pulled her along as she hurried down the winding staircase to find Frigga.  As they rounded a corner into the west wing, Lyra stopped and quickly pushed the maid back into the shadows beside a marble column, one hand going over the woman's mouth, the other over her son's to keep him quiet.  Three men were conversing nearby;  they were wearing Asgardian uniforms, but the markings on their faces told her they weren't Asgardian.  Looking around quickly, she saw the crumpled bodies of the men the uniforms belonged to, and knew the palace was breached from within.

_Assassins._

"He's not in the palace," one of them was saying, keeping his voice quiet so that it didn't echo down the cavernous corridor.  "We don't leave until he's dead."

"The front garrisons will be this far soon, he should be easy to find once his family is threatened."

_They were looking for Loki._

"Then find them and wait for the sorcerer to show himself."

Lyra peeked around the corner to get a good look at the men, committing their faces to memory before they disbanded, moving quickly in search of her and the king's children.  Once they were sufficiently far down the hallway she motioned for her maid to follow her, and silently they made their way to Frigga's chambers.

 

"You must get to the dungeons now," Frigga insisted, hugging and kissing the newborn as Lyra tied a shawl around her handmaiden, binding her son to the woman so that he was secured to her.  She did the same with her daughter, tying the infant tightly to herself;  in the event that a quick retreat became necessary, it would be much easier to run this way.

"What about you?"

Frigga shook her head, a scowl on her face that reminded Lyra unsettlingly of Loki.  "I'm going to the servants' wing to make sure everyone gets to safety.  Take the children and go!"  Her tone held no allowance for disobedience, but Lyra wasn't ready to obey just yet.

"Tell me about the seige on my kingdom," she said quickly, ignoring the look of confusion and indignation on Frigga's face as she turned to look at her.  "Tell me why Loki wanted to leave us!"

"I don't know what you mean," Frigga said hurriedly, trying to urge them along.  "Odin gave the order for the children to be brought here for safety, to preserve your people."

"Why preserve us while your armies destroyed us?"

"What?  No - "

A loud crash was followed by the deafening sound of voices and a myriad armored feet, close and coming closer.  "Was Loki a general in that war?"

"Yes, but he was under specific orders, it wasn't a war Lyra - not between our people and yours."  Her eyes darted nervously to the doorway as the sounds of approaching battle grew nearer.

"So we were spoils of someone else's victory."

"Oh for the sake of the Norns, please, _go now!"_ Frigga shouted in frustration, drawing her dagger as she pushed the handmaid toward the door.  "Get to the dungeons, Loki ordered that his children be kept safe so _do it or I will!"_

Breathing heavily and trembling, her mind a jumbled mess of confusion and doubt, Lyra took her maid by the hand again, pulling her into the corridor just as the main gate to the palace fell.

In moments, the corridors were overrun with marauders.

 

Loki turned and looked back at the palace just in time to see the gate fall, watching in horror as a wave of enemy soldiers swarmed in. _Lyra -_

Quickly throwing his arms around the men closest to him, he closed his eyes and vanished, taking them with him.

 

Lyra and the maid stepped quickly into an antechamber that she knew had a hidden rear exit leading to the lower areas as Frigga made her way in the opposite direction;  she was pulling the heavy door shut behind them when Loki suddenly appeared, blocking the doorway and yelling into the corridor, shouting orders to the men he had teleported with him.  The hallway was swarming with the enemy and Asgard's soldiers were falling. Five men charged at Loki and he shifted quickly, snarling ferociously as he took them down, turning from wolf back to man almost quicker than Lyra realized what she was seeing.

Thor suddenly crashed through the melee, Mjolnir dragging him along behind it, clearing a path through the center of the crowd for the heavily armed platoon that followed him. 

"Get Lyra to safety!" he shouted, waving Loki and the women back as he charged into the adjoining corridor to fight back the advancing troops so that they could escape;  Loki turned to push Lyra toward the back exit and was shocked to find her facing him, holding a knife outstretched toward him, her eyes locked to his.  He looked down at the blade, instantly recognizing it as one of his own handmade throwing knives.

"Lyra - "

He barely even felt the finely sharpened edge as it pierced his side, just below his bottom rib.  But he felt it as it came out his back, and the breath left his lungs in a whooshing rush that filled his head, drowning out the sounds of the battle.

"Choke on your own blood, monster."  She drew back the blade and met his eyes for a brief moment, the space of a heartbeat where his expression said all the things his voice couldn't...and then the one thing his voice could. _  
_

_"Why?"_

_Hadn't she loved him...?_

"You're not the only one who can create an illusion," she snarled, slicing his throat.

 

_To be continued..._


	18. Victory

Loki pushed himself up with trembling arms, blinking hard against the lightheadedness and pain - most of the discomfort was in his side where Lyra's knife had pierced straight through.  He brought a hand to his neck and drew it away, inspecting the amount of blood coming from the gash she'd put there.  The wound was negligible;  he wouldn't bleed to death from it, not today.  The wound in his side was likewise nonfatal, barely more than an annoyance once one got past the shock of being skewered by one's own wife.  He tried to think straight, to understand what had happened, but his thoughts were scattered and the sounds of the siege were assaulting him from all sides.  

Dead guards lay at the doorway just a few feet from where he stood.  

Lyra and her handmaiden were nowhere to be seen.

She had turned on him.  The little bitch had stabbed him, then slashed his throat and left him for dead.  He'd seen from the corner of his eye the men who had paused at the doorway - they were gone, moved on no doubt when they saw the king fall.  Had they taken the women?

_Good riddance.  And good luck...she's a slippery one._

But if they had the women, they also had his children, and for that they'd inked their own death warrants.

 

Stalking through the palace corridors, Loki took down soldier after soldier that came at him, finally loosing a deafening roar as he bowed his back to conjure all the magic he had in him, turning it loose in a sudden blast of power that emptied the entire walkway and cleared his path.  It weakened him, but he ignored the fatigue and continued toward the roof and the battlement wall.  From there he could shift into a raven and fly swiftly over the city, checking all the roads, searching for whoever had the children;  they would certainly be transporting them to their commander by now and he could take them out easily if he could just find them.

_Do you remember me?_

Lyra's words came to him as he broke into a run, unable to teleport until his magic recharged.  He understood what she'd meant now.  He remembered descending on Adelheim with his troops, wading through bodies knee deep as they entered the burning palace of the royals.  Odin's decree.  The women outside in the corridors begging them not to steal the children, swearing they would take them and leave the city if they would just spare them...Asgard had come to end the siege and save whoever was left, but after the brutal battle the people had been subjected to, they no longer recognized allies.

He'd ordered the children to be left to the care of the pleading women.  Peasants, villagers who had risked their lives to make their way into the besieged castle to save the youngsters once the place had been set aflame.  The marauding army that had wiped their city out were well known for leaving babies to burn...

 _Leave them_  he had ordered, bending to the wish of the women...but his demand was argued down by his own men in favor of obeying the king.  And so the children had been taken, whisked away, saved, while the females of Adelheim wept.

_Do you remember me...I was the child in the closet._

She had been barely more than a baby, terrified and screaming as one of the men dragged her out of her hiding place.  He knew which one she was now.  He remembered the crushed fiddle, how the little girl had stared in shock at the two dead women in the room.  The callousness of his men in handling her had infuriated him, but not so much as their blatant disregard of his orders.  To such a young, frightened creature, he must have seemed a monster, with his angry countenance and shouting voice.

_Choke on your own blood, monster._

 

Rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, Loki stepped out onto the roof and was met by a man in Asgardian armor - but the look on his face when he saw Loki and the way he quickly retreated left no doubt he was not of the king's army.  The fact that he was trying to escape the castle by means of a rope over the side cemented his suspicion.

"You live!"  he shouted, pointing his blade at Loki.  "But I saw you felled by that woman."

Loki quirked an eyebrow, focusing on the shouting soldier.  He recognized the man - he had been among the three that had paused at the doorway when Lyra turned on him.  It made sense now...it had been this man's assignment to murder the king.

But he hadn't done it...because he'd seen Lyra do it for him.

_That little minx..._

"Letting a woman do your dirty work," Loki taunted, circling slowly around the man in a wide arc, blade hidden in his sleeve.  "Tsk tsk.  What _ever_ would your commanding officer think?"

"There would be much laughter over tankards of mead as I related the tale of how the mighty sorcerer king of Asgard fell at the hand of a tiny woman with a baby strapped to her back!"

"Yes..."  Loki stopped his slow circular advance;  the man was well within accuracy range now.  "That _would_ make an amusing tale.  And the fact of it is... _it's truer than you think."_

The man opened his mouth to speak, but Loki's blade sliced through his windpipe before a word was formed.  The general of the assassins fell, dead before he hit the floor.

 

Thor and the armies slowly fought back the attackers, gaining ground and being pushed back before advancing again.  The sun set and rose and set again before true success was won, and when victory was finally declared and the remaining enemy forces were routed, Loki fell, victorious but defeated, at the foot of his own throne.  Exhaustion and a confused grief overtook him...he had failed to find his son and daughter and Lyra's fate was unknown.  The dungeons where he had told her to take them were empty.  He had killed one of the assassins, but what of the other two?  Had they taken Lyra and the babies?  His side burned and ached where she had stabbed him, and though his neck had healed quickly once his Seidr had recharged, the scar remained to remind him that he really had no idea if her betrayal was real.  He remembered her looking past his shoulder as he turned toward her in the antechamber...the three assassins that had just come into the doorway...their eyes on him, while her eyes were on them.

_You're not the only one who can create an illusion._

 

Crawling up the final steps of the dais, he collapsed onto the throne of his forefathers - by name only, of course - and let his head fall to his hands.  His attempt to clear his mind and think was interrupted by a nervous voice.

"Sire - ?"

He ignored the petitioner;  it was a messenger, no doubt bringing news of the roads being secured.  It had been his last order before leaving the smoking streets of the city and returning to the eerily deserted palace.

"Sire, I have word from the AllMother."

Sighing heavily, Loki uncovered his face and looked at the man.  "How fares she?"

"She is fine, Sire."

He nodded.  He expected no less of Frigga - she was as competent a warrior as any three of his men.  He thought for a long moment, then braced his nerves and asked the question that had been stabbing at his heart for days.

"Any word of my children?"

"They're fine as well, Sire.  Safe and well."

Loki's head jerked up, coming quickly to attention.  "Are they inside the palace?"

"Yes Sire, they never left it."

A slow grin began to spread across his face, a hopeful realization renewing his flagging strength.

"Is the queen alive?"

"She is, Sire."

Suppressing a small chuckle, he leaned back on the throne, relaxing for the first time since the siege began.

"Bring her to me."

 

When Lyra entered the throne room, flanked by two guards as was standard procedure for entrance to the king's presence during times of war, Loki settled his stare upon her without letting any evidence of his disposition show.  She approached silently, her own face curiously blank as the guards hesitantly reached out to stop her from getting any closer - Loki had given no permission, and they waited in a nervous confusion, the purpose of this strangely uncomfortable meeting unclear.

"My traitorous little queen," he finally said, his voice teasing.  The two guards exchanged startled looks and immediately grabbed her, but Loki shook his head and waved them away.  They moved aside as he stood up and came slowly down the steps, stopping just a few inches from where Lyra stood.

She lowered her head, her hands held out in front of her to await the cold clamp of the manacles.  Loki's eyes still had not left her face, his expression still unreadable.  He lowered his head to hers and she heard him chuckle quietly next to her ear.

_"Do not think I don't know it was you who saved me."_

Without raising her head, she grinned, her hands still out in front of her.  Loki moved closer till her fingers bumped his stomach;  he flinched a bit as she moved her left hand to touch the bandage over his stab wound.  "I see you survived relatively unscathed," she said, amusement hitching in her voice.

He took her hand and turned it over, revealing the deep gash in her palm.  Throwing knives were not made for close combat use;  she'd had to grip the blade itself to hold it, and the force of pushing it into him had left her a nasty injury.  He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed the wound tenderly.

"Did you know those men?" he finally asked, his voice quiet, eyes searching hers for any sign of deception.  He saw none.

"No Sire...my handmaid and I overheard their plot and good fortune afforded me an opportunity."

Loki laughed softly, his hand coming to his throat, fingers gingerly touching the angry red scar angling downward - curiously missing both his jugular and his windpipe.  The stab wound in his side had likewise bypassed anything vital.  "You always did like stealing the anatomy books from my library."  His smile widened as he looked her over, noting with relief the lack of any evidence of injury other than her hand. "Your servant?  Is she safe?"

"She is, Sire.  She's in the prisons with the children, we locked them in and damped the cell walls so they wouldn't be seen."

"Good girl."

"Your brother?" she asked, her brow furrowed with worry.  She hadn't seen Thor since he had fought back the hoards at the antechamber.  She hoped he'd survived the onslaught.

"He was defending the east wall from stragglers when last I saw him."

There was the sound of a throat clearing behind them and Loki turned.  The quartermaster of the prisons had been summoned by the guards and was standing nearby, looking at him expectantly.

"Put your manacles away," the king ordered, turning back to his queen.  "There are no traitors here."

 

 

_To be continued..._


	19. Restitution

 

 

The assassins were _right there_...Lyra could see the color of their eyes and the determination in the grim set of their mouths.  Loki had turned his back to them, his eyes falling to the infant bound to Lyra's body. Did he know they were there, rising to strike him down?  It was in that moment, that brief few seconds when his eyes rose to meet hers that she doubted herself and her resolve...despite what she believed, she knew he didn't deserve to die.

Not like this.  Not in front of his children.

But the three men at the door had to believe it was real - the king _had_ to die.   _Better at my hands than theirs._

A crippling fear lashed through her as she pulled out the knife...Loki's knife, forged by his own hands...and drove it into his side, where the books had shown her there were no vital organs.  He didn't make a sound until she pulled it out.  He had looked down, at her hand grasping the blade, and slowly brought his eyes back to her face.  The confusion in his expression tore her heart from her chest and in that moment she knew she had to make her final decision.  His fate was in her hands, quite literally.  He hadn't fallen, and the men were still coming, drawing their own blades to finish the job she'd started.  They were close enough to hear her speak.

_Choke on your own blood, monster._

She heard her handmaiden gasp as she slit Loki's throat, saw the slack-jawed look of terror and disbelief in the woman's face when she turned to push her toward the hidden exit.  The men at the door stopped, watching in surprise, the General laughing as Loki went down.  And then they had moved on, looking back over their shoulders at the seemingly dead king lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood, their work done for them.

It took all Lyra's strength of will to leave him there, not knowing if her rudimentary guesswork as to where his jugular was located had served her intentions or if she'd miscalculated and actually killed him.  But the amount of blood pouring from his neck and the lack of arterial spray calmed her nerves - if she had cut it, she would have been covered in his blood - and she forcibly turned her servant toward the exit and dragged her along, hoping beyond hope that the assassins didn't return to double check her handiwork.

She was counting on Loki's seidr to kick in and start healing him before he bled out too much.  But she couldn't stay to make sure it happened, because the corridor was overflowing with the battle brought indoors.  She pushed the maid through the little exit and then went back to the big heavy antechamber door, pulling it shut to give Loki enough protection to keep him safe until he regained consciousness. She'd given him one last look before ducking through the little door to the lower level staircases, shushing the baby that was starting to cry, its tiny voice barely audible over the deafening sounds of the battle.

 

"Do we know who this was?"

Frigga was addressing both her sons, the grim set of her expression betraying the intense fatigue that had overtaken her, but she was holding her grandson tightly in her arms as she paced back and forth before the throne.  All propriety and decorum had been tossed aside;  the palace was still on fire in places, and bodies were being dragged out of the hallways.  Exhausted soldiers leaned against the walls in the throne room, recouping their strength before going back out to finish routing the last of the attackers.  Loki was cradling his daughter against his armor, singing quietly to shush her tiny crying voice.

Thor, sitting on the steps a few feet down from the throne, glanced apprehensively toward Lyra.

"We do."

"Then who was it?  Why did they attack us?"

Thor cast his eyes to the marble floor, a look of shame pulling at his features.

"Tell them," Loki finally said, his voice demanding.  "Tell them who it was, brother.  Tell them why this happened."  His eyes were still on the baby in his arms, his own expression carefully blank save for the little smile he was using to keep her calm.  Lyra couldn't take her eyes off him...there was something not right, something very disturbing in his careless demeanor.  He was soaked in blood, both his own and that of his enemies, but he had washed his hands so that he could hold his infant.  It was all he seemed to care about in the midst of all the destruction around him.

Frigga finally lost her patience and kicked Thor in the leg.   _"Who??"_

Covering his face with one huge hand, sighing in exasperated defeat, Thor murmured, "Adelheim."

"What?!"

Lyra felt herself physically jerk, as if shocked.  Loki was looking at her with that same expression on his face, but his eyes were no longer blank.

"But - but there is no Adelheim - " she whispered, her voice wavering.

"Yes there is, Lyra," Thor corrected her gently.  "The kingdom rebuilt itself.  After your uncle the king and all the royal family were murdered, one of the few surviving nobles took the throne and the city was eventually restored - quietly, and without drawing our attention.  And they made themselves allies of our enemies."  He stopped speaking and looked down at his hands again.  "All the new king knew was that we'd been there, that we'd taken you and the others, and that was enough to start this war."

Loki finally stood, drawing in a deep breath as he settled the baby against his shoulder and came down from the throne to stand before Lyra.

"We weren't there as marauders, Lyra.  We didn't attack you.  We were there to try to liberate you, but we were too late.  Your family was killed by another army, not ours."  He turned to look at Frigga, letting a purposeful bite fall into his next words.  "Odin sent us to rout them out...we didn't know we were walking into a slaughter that had already taken place.  He wanted the children brought back so that your people wouldn't die out, but I didn't see it that way.  I knew you would be brought here and made to live as if you were Asgardian and I know how that feels, to have your heritage stripped away."  He glanced over at his mother again, whose eyes were downcast, staring at the floor.  "I wanted to leave you there because enough of your people were still alive to take care of you. You didn't need us to save you.  But I was overruled by Odin's orders and on our way out of the city we were ambushed by a party of returning nobles.  They'd been outside the realm when the battle took place, they knew nothing of what had happened...only that Asgard was leaving their burning city with wagonloads of their children."  He paused a moment to let the weight of his words sink in.  "And now, years later, under the rule of that party of nobles...they came to get revenge."

"On the wrong people!" Frigga said angrily, her temper flaring.  Loki turned his glare to her and she instantly silenced.

"We deserved it, Mother.  We had no business taking their children.  The women there were ready to care for them, they didn't need us playing benefactor over them."  He sat down next to Thor on the steps, sighing heavily.  "But we've captured three of their generals and we're going to send them back with the truth of what really happened and an offer of peace talks."  He stared pointedly at Lyra.  "And if any of the people we took would like to return to their home, they're free to go."

 

After many nights apart, the king and queen of Asgard finally returned to their private chambers, putting their children to bed in silence. Loki's face carried the heavy guilt of the past tempered with something that Lyra thought looked like a hope for the future, not shining brightly, but present enough to keep him from seeming defeated.

"It's admirable of you to take the blame for what happened, Sire...but they should be informed that you tried to keep it from happening.  It was the former king, not you - "

"The sons are accountable for the sins of the fathers."  Loki looked over at his own son, sleeping peacefully in his crib near the bed.  "All I can do is make sure my reign is free of any transgression that he shall have to pay for."

Approaching the bed where Lyra was sitting, Loki held his hand out to her.  He had just come from the baths and had the blood and grime washed from his skin for the first time in days, and it had improved his mood greatly.  "You may return to Adelheim if you wish, my queen," he said quietly, drawing her hand to his lips to kiss it tenderly.  "You're not a captive here."

Lyra looked up at her husband, a confused look on her face.  "And why would I do that, my king?  My home is here...my heart is here."  She looked at the two babies, then at Loki.  He was smiling down at her and though he looked tired, there was love shining in his eyes.

"And my heart is here," he said quietly, his hand stroking gently down her cheek.

 

 

_To be continued..._


	20. Progeny

 

 

"Aleks!"

The young man turned, searching for a moment till his sharp green eyes found the source of the call - the God of Thunder, shouting to him across the battlefield, holding aloft his famed warhammer.  He was motioning toward the battlement wall and the entrance into the city.

A huge black wolf, ears grizzled silver with age, was tearing through the front line toward them, taking down anyone that dared step into its path. The prince grinned - he'd been waiting for his father to return to the battle.  A soldier on the upper wall spotted the wolf and shouted _"The king returns!"_ as the feral animal bounded past Thor and tackled two enemy soldiers that were coming up behind him.

"I saw them, brother," Thor groused, swinging his hammer as if it were a toy.  "I don't need you doing me any favors."

Loki stood, shifting quickly back to his god form, his battle worn armor reappearing over his still strong body as he drew a blade from somewhere under his cloak and waved it threateningly toward an advancing soldier.  "Everybody knows you're half blind, you old fool," he scoffed, backing up so that he was near his brother.  "You can thank me later when we're both half dead in the healing rooms and you're claiming to only be there to keep me company."  He looked around, squinting briefly in the bright sunlight.  "Where's Aleks?"

"Over there."

Loki looked where Thor was pointing, his face breaking into a wide grin of pride and amusement as his eyes fell upon a young black wolf racing toward the rear lines.

"Well lets hope he remembers to magic his clothes back on this time."

Thor laughed heartily, backing up to Loki while he swung the hammer at yet another advancing soldier.  "That was a treaty meeting to remember, wasn't it!  The Ambassador to Glevnor and his eleven lovely daughters all assembled with high hopes of winning favor and possibly the heart of a prince, and in walks your son, naked as the day he was born with a dead pheasant hanging out of his mouth."

"I'm fairly certain it was intentional."

"How is Lyra, by the way?  Did the baby come?"

"It did.  Another girl."

"Damn brother, how many more daughters do you need?  How many is this now, seven?  Eight?  Do you even know?"

"Five, smartass."

Thor turned and looked at Loki, confusion crossing his face.  "Are you sure it's only five?  What was the one last month?"

"That was my granddaughter."  He glared at Thor and shook his head in exasperation.  "Alyra's baby, it was a girl as well."

"You're a bunch of rabbits, the lot of you."

"Well, someone has to keep this family going and it's obviously not going to be you."

The young wolf bounded past, leaping over a wagon, shifting in mid-air back to man form and landing with a rather sloppy barrel roll a few yards away.

"Put your clothes on Aleks!" Thor yelled while Loki laughed.  The young prince waved a hand, conjuring full battle armor complete with a horned helmet like his father's.

"How's mother?" he shouted over the din of the fighting;  Loki and Thor were surrounded by what appeared to be an entire platoon, but the prince didn't bother going to their aid - his father and uncle were famed for taking on entire armies by themselves, they could certainly handle this group.  "Did she have the baby?"

"A girl," Loki shouted back.

"Another one?"

"Don't start.  And a little help might be nice over here."  Loki ducked a swinging sword and kicked the wielder's legs out from under him while Thor laughed.

"Your old man still has it, princeling!  Don't be looking to take the throne any time soon!"

Dropping to his hands in the mud, the prince shifted to his wolf form and leapt into the fray;  Loki did the same and the two wolves made short work of the group, leaving Thor leaning against a supplies wagon as they bounded off together toward the palace.  It was their habit to patrol the halls and corridors regularly for invaders that might have broken through the frontline defenses, and the women and other palace residents were used to seeing them now...it had become something of a custom and the two always made sure to take the shortcut through the kitchens, scaring the chickens and the scullery maids before stealing whatever food was on the preparation tables.  The old kitchen chief always made sure there was something left out for them, as a favor to Lyra, who still played music with them in the mead hall.

 

It was many years later that Loki, King of Asgard and Ruler of the Nine Realms, handed the throne to his son.  He was simply tired of ruling, bored of sitting on a throne that he'd never truly wanted.  A desire to wander had overtaken him, the need for adventure outside his own realm, to learn new things again...his queen's face had lit with excitement when he asked if she wanted to accompany him.  He had set her free many decades ago, but their hearts had been bound inextricably together and she had stayed, never leaving his side.

The Wolf Prince, as he was affectionately known by the people, was crowned in the Fall of that year and took the throne, his uncle Thor at his side as chief advisor.  Many in the court had to look twice during his coronation - it was like seeing Loki there again, so much like his father was the young king in both look and demeanor.  His grandmother Frigga cast him a disapproving glare as he ascended to the throne, his fingertips discreetly sparking emerald light inside his long sleeves as the robes of the council members mysteriously began to billow smoke, one by one, as he passed.

 

The council met, as was custom, and after little deliberation, the decree was sent.

Thor delivered it, just as he had so many years ago when his brother took the throne.  He sighed heavily as he knelt on slightly creaky knees before his nephew, the newly appointed ruler of the Nine Realms, bowing his head in respect for the young man he still taught swordplay to every morning.

"Royal decree states that you must take a wife, Sire."

The court collectively held its breath, awaiting the king's reaction, remembering all too well the mayhem and resulting collateral damage of his father being given the same decree.  The king sat quietly for a moment, his hands steepled in front of his face, looking at Thor through his fingers.  It was a long while before finally he smiled, his bright emerald eyes alight with mischief.

"Well then, I suppose I'd best get busy looking for one."

 

 

**_The End_ **

 

 

**_Loki, Lyra, and Aleks' adventures continue in[THE WOLF KING](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5462807)_ **

 

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

 

 

 

**_Loki, Lyra, and Aleks' adventures continue in The Wolf King_** \- read it here:  [THE WOLF KING](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5462807)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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